


Redemption

by tysunkete (aozu)



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Complicated Relationships, F/M, M/M, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2018-04-17 09:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 58,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4661445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aozu/pseuds/tysunkete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. On October 3rd, Kanda Yuu wakes up next to a man he hasn’t seen since seven years ago. Trigger warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A small edit of a very personal story.

Fuck, it  _hurt_ .

Kanda groans inaudibly as his consciousness filters in, nose catching the stench of alcohol, sweat and sex. His body aches—in _that_ particular way, and he has no desire to move from wherever he is, because it is actually comfortable, or maybe he’s just too tired. But sunlight is blaring down on his eyes and he cannot avoid it whichever direction he buries his face in. Eventually he seeks to move his hands at least. The first grope causes him to be aware of how very warm whatever he’s touching seems to be, and then he realises it’s a _body_.

It takes a few more seconds to realise that someone is holding his waist. Blearily he cracks an eye open, wincing at the burst of brightness, to see who the hell fucked him last night. It isn’t an odd case—he’s done this a couple of times, never at his place, and he is always quick to leave in the mornings no matter how bad his hangover is.

This time it’s a redhead—again, not unusual—and Kanda closes his eyes for a few more indulgent seconds before he wriggles his way out. The arm around his waist tightens when he makes the first movement, and the owner sounds a groan. He pries open the grip without much care, ignoring the dull ache at the back of his head, and sits at the bed edge.

The first thing he notices are the finger marks on his bare thighs. There are other more marks, and Kanda is sure he gave it as much as he got, but he hopes there is nothing on his neck or else he’d have to kill the son of a bitch—Tiedoll would freak the fuck out if the older saw them…or fuss over non-existent mosquitos in his apartment.

He casts a bleary glance around for his clothes and finds them at the doorway. It takes a bit of effort to pull them back on, absentmindedly nudging the other clothes that don’t belong to him with his foot. He’s buttoning up the last of his shirt when he toes upon a black eyepatch.

He hasn’t met anyone who wore an eyepatch since—

A redhead.

“Leaving so soon?”

Kanda struggles to breathe—he doesn’t know if he’s exhaling or inhaling at this point, but it doesn’t make a difference.

_Hey Yuu, leaving so soon?_

Instantly his stomach churns, but he ignores it, focusing on getting his hands to button that fucking last button right, because the minute tremble in his fingers are threatening to render his actions useless.

 _What are the chances, right? That this guy wears an eyepatch and sounds the same as La_ — he cuts off the thought ruthlessly. He wanted to be fucked to forget about that shit, not to be reminded of it.

“I have breakfast in the kitchen if you’re hungry—“ the other goes on with a scratchy voice, and fuck, that _accent_ — “or painkillers, if your head is killing you like mine is.”

“…I have work,” Kanda bites out, still refusing to turn around.

“On a Saturday? We could go another round.”

“Work.”

“Well, I can give you a ride if you’re so insistent,” the reply is fast. “Not that _your_ riding skills are anything to—“

“Do you always have to talk this much?” Kanda snaps, cocking his head to the side to glare at the person responsible.

He knows he shouldn’t have done that but he did—he’s never one to reign his impulses when he gets irritated. And no matter how many times he thinks back to this, it’s the point of second regret.

The redhead’s hair slightly longer than he remembers. It’s mussed, ends sticking up. His features are more mature—of course, seven years tended to do that to some people, pity about the personality—and glint in his one eye is sharper. And the other eye where an eyepatch had always placed—something Kanda had wanted to know but was too afraid to ask—now all in its visible glory, a jagged scar stretching across a sewn eyelid. The redhead’s physique is broader, more muscled—fuck, Kanda vaguely remembers the hard body pressed up tight against him last night—but everything else is the same—the colour of his emerald eye, the cheesy innocent grin, the red of his hair.

Kanda still finds himself struggling to breathe, even after all these years.

It’s Lavi. It’s definitely Lavi, because there’s no way to erase any memory of seven years ago, no matter how hard he has—and still am, trying.

It suddenly feels like he’s drowning on air. The breath in his throat gets completely stuck. His hands go ice cold. Numbly, he tries to swallow but his muscles don’t want to comply. But his face barely gives anything away, just a slight widening of his eyes and the inaudible mouth part where he attempts to suck in some air—but he’s not breathing, not breathing—

The redhead cocks his head slightly, ends of the other’s hair tickling the shoulder.

“My offers still stand—“

Kanda forces himself to turn his gaze away pointedly, clenching his fists tight. Only then does he dare to shut his eyes, controlling the next few words he needs to say.

He can do this. He can do this. He has to do this.

“N-neither,” Kanda forces out. He can nearly taste the bile on his tongue, and he will if he spends one more minute lingering. “I need to go.”

His legs carry him out of the room, straight for the front door.

“Hey!”

Lavi calls—Lavi, Lavi, fuck, _Lavi_ —

“Hey, at least give me your name and number, beautiful!”

 _He doesn’t recognise me_ , Kanda thinks vaguely. _He doesn’t—_

But it doesn’t make a difference. He’s out onto the main road before he remembers to breathe. He puts as much distance as he can as he coughs violently into his palm, shooting paranoid glances behind him. It is only after he crosses a few blocks and rounds a corner that he stops and leans against a railing of a bus top. His head is throbbing. The air is chill, the season seeping into autumn, and it helps slightly to clear the mud in his head.

Clenching a loose grip over his abdomen, he takes a shaky glance at the map at the bus stop.

Canada Water.

It’s then that he takes a good look at his surroundings, and back towards the building which he had hastily escaped from. The high rise flat of apartments stands stark in contrast to the other houses in the area. How is it that Lavi—motherfucking _Lavi_ —has been living so close to where he is at Canary Wharf?

And to think all these years of running away just brings him closer than ever before.

It barely takes him eight minutes to get home to his apartment by bus. It feels like it takes longer for his trembling hands to search his pockets for his keys—thank god his wallet and keys were in his pockets, he doesn’t want to think of the alternative—and even longer for him to slot the right one successfully into the key hole.

He grimaces and shuts his eyes as he feels his gag reflex kicking in, never mind that his stomach is empty, empty, _empty_ —it’s by familiarity that he stumbles into his bathroom blindly and clutches the tap of his sink when he lurches forward to retch, the disgusting throaty noises drumming through his ears.

His fringe gets into his eyes, and he grips it back forcefully. His headache decides to imitate the sensation of a bullet through his brain at this point, and his knees nearly buckle. Hair strands slip through, but at least the back of his hair is short so that he doesn’t have to bother holding the whole length back like he would have six years ago. Nothing except spittle comes out as he’s predicted, but it doesn’t stop his stomach for churning again and forcing another dry retch.

 _It’s okay_ , he tells himself. _It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay._ He just needs to breathe. _One in. One out. One in. One out._

It’s okay. It’s not the same as seven years ago when he made the decision to do what he did. There’s a reason why he left that ridiculous redhead, and if he could, he would do it again. He just met Lavi by chance. A simple one night stand. It’s fine. Lavi doesn’t recognise who he is with his short hair. Or maybe Lavi’s forgotten about him, which by right should be the best outcome, but somehow it makes his gut sour more and he coughs out more spit.

 _It’s okay,_ he repeats to himself.

It’s okay if _Lavi_ fucked him, and he doesn’t remember a thing.


	2. One

Lavi has had a couple of regrets in his life, but none so recent as letting that black haired beauty out of his flat without a name or number. Although he is blessed with eidetic memory, he cannot fully picture that person’s face, made fuzzy by the amount of alcohol that probably ended them up in that situation. It takes a bit of the weekend to recall how he met the stranger—he was in a club the previous night, he remembers, and then he had spotted someone at the bar counter who seemed a bit familiar. Short black hair that ended at the nape, but with front bangs brushing his chin. Nothing came to mind when he kept glancing at the figure sitting back towards him, knocking back a shot. Curiosity won through and he excused himself from his current company to take a seat away from the man.

There was only space on the figure’s left side, which made it near impossible to see a full profile of the face due to his half blind condition. Yet, the side profile was enough to bewitch him to stay. He stood, trying to be inconspicuous as he debated the best way to introduce himself—it was a touchy thing if he wasn’t sure of the other’s sexual preference—personally, he swung both ways, a compliment was a compliment, right?—when a shot glass slid towards him.

He blinked in confusion, glancing over properly to see a small smirk on the other’s lips. Without a second thought he accepted the challenge, knocking back the tequila shot just as the other raised his own to his lips.

From then on everything was a bit of a blur. There was definitely more drinking, and there was a bit of heavy grinding that followed somewhere to his apartment. He could only clearly picture the tattoo that was inked beautifully on the other’s unblemished skin, because he had traced his tongue over the pattern countless times in the night. There was a lot of groaning, the good kind of groaning, and fuck, there was this thought that he had never seen anyone hotter in his life _except_ —except Y—

Lavi exhales forcefully as he looks up at the office building, framed in delicate glass. Holborn is a bit of a way from his place and he doesn’t own a car—yet. He might, but there’s always a problem of the gas prices and parking fees and his uncle isn’t exactly generous with the wealth they actually have.

It’s not a bad thing to learn the principles of hard work—he made it through Oxford _and_ Cambridge just by scholarships, even for his allowance—but you know, it’d just be _nice_ , once in a while. Glancing at his watch, he blanches because he hopes the old man’s friend isn’t a stickler for time, if not, he’d be fired on his first day with his new client.

He gets into the building fine, bypassing the large letters on the marble wall spelling out _Eden’s Art_. He quickly runs through in his head the materials his uncle had given him to read about the job—Froi Tiedoll, founder of _Eden’s Art_ , an art management company that organises art gallery exhibits and auctions, is apparently a long-time friend of his uncle’s, who requires some paperwork to be dealt with as the company see to expand their auction intake.

Usually one of the other associates take on _Eden’s Art_ business, but today the old man wants him to get acquainted with Tideoll and his son. Lavi doesn’t mind all the meet and greet stuff, but he isn’t too confident about laws in art management. Perhaps he should’ve read a little more before stepping in, but of course it is too late as a large white haired man stands up the moment he enters the top floor reception.

“I am so sorry to keep you waiting, sir,” Lavi begins nervously, immediately recognising the face from the pictures. “There was a signal fault on the central line, I—“

“No need to worry about that,” the man smiles warmly as he offers his hand. “Froi Tiedoll, pleased to finally meet Bookman’s nephew.”

“Lavi, and likewise, sir,” he nods in response as he returns the firm handshake.

The older man beckons to follow him as they weave through the office towards the back. “I would love to introduce you to our system but I’m afraid I have a meeting in ten minutes. My son will explain anything you have questions of,” he continues as they walk down a line of glass offices until they come upon one with the blinds down.

Tiedoll sighs and shakes his head with a smile. “I’ve told him countless of times not to shut the blinds but he never listens. He is very stubborn and can get a little rude, so please excuse his behaviour in advance.”

Lavi scratches his cheek with a chuckle. “I’m sure we’ll get along just—“ he trails off the moment he lays eye on the name on the door.

_Kanda Yuu._

Nothing can prepare him for the shock of seeing the same person he saw on Saturday morning in his room right across him at the desk in this particular moment. He notes the front bangs sweeping over the other’s eyes before the head was lifted at the interruption into the office, followed by the irritated snap that never made through as it was swallowed by a mask of pure disbelief.

“Yuu, this is Lavi—he’s the nephew of the friend I was telling you about. He’s the lawyer who’ll now deal with all our auction proceedings, so run by him some of our biggest clients, like _Noah’s Ark_. I made sure your morning is free so take as much time as you need with him, please don’t—“

It’s definitely the same person he fucked that night, unbelievably gorgeous in an open collared suit. Except, Tiedoll called him _Yuu_ and the name on the door is _Kanda Yuu_ —

_Kanda Yuu, Kanda Yuu, Kanda Yuu,_

His _Yuu—_

Those stormy navy eyes and structured features that has haunted him since he’s met the other, those lips he’s fantasized about devouring for years; suddenly, everything stands out clear like it did seven years ago back in high school, when he saw Kanda for the first time and thought he was the most beautiful person he’d seen since…since ever. Except Kanda doesn’t have a delicate shoulder stance like he used to, neither is his jawline that subtle. He has definitely put on muscle—fuck that _night_ —and no one can mistake him for a girl anymore, yet his androgynousity still seemed to linger.

But most of all— “Your hair…” Lavi whispers unconsciously under his breath. _Short. So short._

“—he had first class honours in Oxford, so don’t complain to me that he’s incompetent. I assure you that all of Bookman’s associates and especially his own nephew are extremely good at their jobs. I also heard that he’s the same age as you are. Perhaps you two will be friends. Don’t be rude to him, Yuu,” Tiedoll looks pointedly at Kanda, oblivious to the sudden tension. “Well, I leave my son in your good hands.”

Lavi startles immediately by the hand on his shoulder. He can’t take his eye away from Kanda who just seems to be staring right back, stone still in his seat. He vaguely registers himself nodding before Tiedoll slips out and closes the door behind him, leaving them two alone.

For at least a long minute neither of them move, until Kanda suddenly stands up, chair screeching. His fists are clenched as he moves stiffly towards the door, where Lavi realises that Kanda isn’t looking at him at all. The other is looking at the door, of which opens and closes in less than a second, leaving him to stare at the blank space of the opaque glass door.

* * *

_God. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Kanda isn’t sure if god is playing a joke on him but it’s bad and it needs to stop now. On Sunday he wakes up to ghost of Lavi mouthing his neck and hand on his cock, on Monday he nearly oversleeps from a dream that took him back to high school, the very first day where Lavi sat beside him in orientation and dragged him into the stupid games. On Tuesday night he barely sleeps, remembering how hard it got to breathe whenever the redhead looked at him, whenever Lavi hugged him on impulse, whenever Lavi asked to hang out—

He manages to reach the toilets and slams into a cubicle, locking the door hastily. Less than a second he’s on his knees, hands clenched over his mouth as he feels the familiar sickening kick in his stomach.

_Oh god, oh god, not again, not—_

He cannot stop the reflex in his throat when he gags, eyes squeezed shut. Nothing comes out.

_Fuck. Shit. Fuck—fuck—_

And again, he swallows uncomfortably and heaves a split second later, only saliva spitting into the toilet bowl. He yanks a length of paper and presses it to his mouth. He sits back and tries to breathe, but his intakes of air are rough and shaky and he squirms when his stomach makes another churn.

_It’s just Lavi. It’s just fucking Lavi and his fucking—fuck—shit—_

_It’s okay. You’re over this. You’ve done this. Just breathe. Breathe—_

_Fuck, can’t breathe, can’t fucking breathe—_

With a trembling hand he pulls out his phone from his pocket, letting it clatter to the ground. It takes a while to press the correct button for speed dial, but when he does, he presses it tight against his right ear as he breathes harshly through his mouth.

The line rings for about three rings before it’s picked up.

“Wow, since when did you call me, Yuu?” the voice sings happily, a stark contrast to his current condition. "Not since well—anyway, what’s up, my man?”

The sound of a retch immediately changes the tone.

“Fuck. Shit. Yuu? Yuu, breathe with me, alright? You know my voice. It’s Alma. Your BFF. Right? Everything is okay. It’s okay, Yuu. I’m here, see?” Alma intoned soothingly. “Listen to me. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Slow breaths. One-and-two. One-and-two. One-and-two—“

A few minutes later of controlled breathing, Kanda takes in his last sudden gasp of air and breathes out slowly, hand relaxing on his grip on the phone.

“Are you alive, Yuu?”

“…Maybe,” Kanda mutters, sinking against the cubicle door. “Well. Shit.”

“Well,” Alma echoes, letting it linger until Kanda’s breathing subsides to its normal pace. “I’m coming over tonight.”

“Fuck, no.”

“Fuck yes,” Alma retorts. “You haven’t had a panic attack in ages.”

“Not true,” Kanda mutters.

“I mean, a panic attack like _that_ ,” Alma corrects. “The last time—“

“Don’t remind me of the last fucking time.”

“Was that pun intended?” Alma grins at the growl he received in turn. “Look, I can’t stay to argue with you in the toilet as romantic as it is, there’s a brunch crowd and the old man will fry my literal ass if any one of them complain about slow service.”

“They’re more likely to complain about the shit that you cook.”

“Yeah, love you too. I’ll see you at home, sweetheart.”

“Fuck you.”

Alma makes a kissing smack before he hangs up the phone. It’s a good thing that he does, because the toilet main door swings open to emit its newest patron, and Kanda hoists himself up to sit on the closed seat in case someone tries to do some shit like looking under the cubicle doors.

Kanda startles when the door of the cubicle he’s in rattles with a rap.

“Yuu?” It’s Tiedoll. “Lavi said you looked unwell. He took his leave, but he’ll be arranging a proper meeting for you two to go through the necessary. Are you alright, son?”

“Just some…” Kanda forces out, voice hoarse from all the gagging earlier. “...something I ate.”

“Oh dear. Take the day off and drink lots of water. I’ll drop by tonight and—“

“No!” Kanda hastens to continue. “No…Alma said he’s coming by. Or some shit.”

“Well. I’ll remind him to bring along a couple of charcoal pills, just in case,” His guardian says, voice gentle. “Can you come out?”

“Just…in a minute.”

The minute stretches as Kanda looks at his lap the whole time. He knows he’s taking too long and that’s the point of it all.

“Son, I’ll call a cab for you. I don’t want to find you in the office later, alright?”

Kanda grunts in acknowledgement.

“Rest well. Give me a call when you’re home.”

The echoes of Tiedoll’s footsteps doesn’t provide the relief that he was hoping for.

* * *

For all the years that Allen has known Lavi, he would say that the guy is the most cheerful and happy go lucky person he’s ever met. In fact, it boils down to Lavi’s easy going persona that they became friends—a random meet in the university dorms when Allen was a mere freshman and Lavi a master’s student, and now three years later, Lavi is basically his best bud. It also means that he gets privy to the sombre personality held under façade for three years and counting.

When Allen slides into the seat at _Burger & Shake_ at Russell Square for dinner, he’s met with Lavi munching absently on a French fry. Without a word Lavi pushes the entire tray of a cheese burger and chips towards him. Allen raises an eyebrow silently and Lavi nods in response. Shrugging, Allen digs into the meal—good burger, but _MeatMarket_ is still better, he thinks, until Lavi speaks when he’s ready.

“I met him.”

Allen chews slowly. “Him? Which him?”

“Him,” Lavi swallows the last of the fry. “As in… _that_ him.”

The younger male pauses. “…Yuu Kanda?” he says slowly, because he’s heard _a lot_ about the guy even if he’s never met him, and if there ever was a time where Lavi wanted to be vague about which _him_ he was referring to, it was probably Yuu Kanda.

“Kanda Yuu,” Lavi corrects on reflex. “He’s Japanese, see? Ah, fuck, I’ve told you this a million times, haven’t I? Fuck—“

“Lavi,” Allen begins in concern. “What happened?”

The redhead shakes his head and throws his hands up in the air, before slapping it over his forehead. “Fuck. It’s a conspiracy. All of it is. A fucking conspiracy—“

Allen stuffs a chip into his mouth to stop the ramble. Lavi sighs and takes it out, biting it viciously. “I wanted to do some binge eating but thinking of all this? I’m not hungry anymore, what gives,” he mutters sulkily.

“What happened, Lavi?” Allen repeats, gentle. “You met Kanda? _Actual_ Kanda?”

“I met Yuu,” the older affirms, face twisting. “Turns out, he’s now one of my clients. Apparently he’s the foster son of one of my old man’s friends. Long-time buddy even,” he snorts. “We’ve done cultural property for _Eden’s Art_ even before I went into law school. What the hell. And now since I have to learn all aspects of the company, I have to take on their dealings for a while. And guess what?” he asks sarcastically. “ _Kanda_ fucking _Yuu_ is my fucking _client_.”

After a few silent chews, Allen ventures quietly. “So how did it go?”

Lavi shrugs. “We didn’t talk.”

“I see,” Allen says in response, eating another bite of his burger.

There is a troubled look in the redhead’s face that clearly states that there is more to the story. He waits calmly, and after twenty seconds the redhead starts to muss up his hair.

“I fucked him.”

Allen promptly chokes. Honest to god, a piece lodges in his throat and it takes several coughs to get it down his gullet. “You _what_?”

“Fucked him,” Lavi repeats even though it was crystal clear the first time. “Last weekend, I was out at a club with a couple of pals and long story short, it somehow ended up with him in my bed.”

“You didn’t recognise him?” Allen asks, bewildered.

“I was pretty shit-faced by then. God, he was doing this thing with his tongue and then—“

“—too much information, _much_ too much information!”

Lavi shakes his head. “Anyway. I didn’t recognise him the morning after either. It was just, today, I saw his name on his office door and everything sorta hit me at once, you know? He has a tattoo on his chest now. He didn’t have that the last time. And his hair…” he continues. “It’s short. Like really short. Or maybe it’s just really short because he had such long hair. Not that it’s bad, I mean, he’s still so h…” he trails off into silence.

The younger male lets Lavi sit in quietness for a couple of minutes before starting cautiously. “I thought you were over him.”

“I am. I _am_ ,” the other states. “It’s just...” he swallows. “…just the shock, you know? I never thought I’d see him again. Not after seven years.”

 “So what now?”

“I don’t know,” Lavi shrugs. “I…I want to talk to him but at the same time I don’t. I mean…he’s the one who disappeared like a ghost after high school, which, fine, seven years I’ve thought about it, maybe he had his reasons, maybe he lied about liking me back, _fine_ , whatever,” he breathes heavily. “I’m over it. But today he walked right past me. He walked out on me twice,” he shuts his eye and corrects again, bitterness seeping into his tone. “Thrice.”

“Lavi…”

“But all that doesn’t matter one shit. I have to meet him or else the old man will kill me,” Lavi continues, sighing deeply. “Fuck, I hate my life.”

* * *

If Alma was to recount his love affair with Kanda Yuu—it has never stopped. It started when Tiedoll put young Kanda at Zuu Mei’s place whenever the artist had an art exhibition to travel to, and the two children formed a fast and unbreakable (Alma sticks, he knows he does) friendship. Also, who else can withstand the fiery moods and tempers of Kanda? Only Alma Karma, best friend extraordinaire.

“So…are you gonna talk or am I going to have to draw out the big guns?”

“Go home,” Kanda snaps, nudging Alma by the ribs when the latter leans over his shoulder as he washes the dishes.

“No can do—literally, your old man told me to stay the night.”

Kanda glowers at his hands under the tap, shutting off the water supply forcefully after he places the last plate on the rack. “Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Alma grins. “You wanna drive me? An itty bitty favour since I drove your car home from the office, hmm?”

“You have a tube discount, use it.”

“Come on, Yuu. You need to talk about it. I’ve told you before. Talking about it—“

“—doesn’t help me in the slightest fucking bit,” Kanda retorts, crossing his arms.

“Actually, it helps me understand you which helps you inadvertently. Your argument is invalid. As always.”

“God fucking Karma—“

“I’m sure that goes against every religion,” Alma rolls his eyes, and he knows that Kanda will accede eventually, because the man doesn’t wrestle away when Alma pushes him onto his own couch. “Remember what I said, Yuu. Please?”

Kanda sighs irritably. “…I met him.”

“Him,” Alma repeats. “As in _that_ him, or him _him_?”

“What?”

“You know,” he gestures vaguely. “The first one, or the actual first one?”

“ _What_?”

“The guy who fucked you first or the guy who fucked you over?” Alma groans, annoyed that he had to spell it out. Seems like their telepathic game is a total failure.

Kanda presses his lips together flatly. “Fuck, I hate you.”

“There were only two people who ever made you lose it completely, so which one is it, princess?”

“The second one.”

“The second one after the first one, or are you referring to the second one of the choices I gave you?”

Kanda grits his teeth. “It was fucking _Lavi_ , okay? Lavi. Fuck.”

Alma stares at him seriously while he tries to avoid it. A hand curves over the back of his nape and he closes his eyes, face pressed into his palm.

“What happened, Yuu?” Alma murmurs gently.

“Apparently he’s the nephew of one of the old man’s friends,” Kanda mutters. “Bookman.”

“That lawyer powerhouse? God damn.”

“He’s working for his uncle now. Which means I have to deal with the legal shit with him. Fuck.”

“Talk about fate,” Alma muses, slowly massaging Kanda’s shoulders. “Or a small world. Well. Coincidence, right? It just so happens that—“

“He fucked me.”

Alma gurgles, because he chokes on his own spit. “Whoa—what?” he demands after his coughing fit. “Rewind. What? _What_?”

Kanda sends him a glare. “That day. At the club. When you ditched me to go grind with that girl.”

“You had fun too, don’t lie,” Alma huffs. “I saw you making out with a redhead—wait, are you saying _that_ was motherfucking _Lavi_?” Alma splutters, eyes wide as Kanda nods curtly. “Blow me. But you’re telling me that you made out with him and you didn’t even recognise him? Well, granted that you always somehow end up fucking redheads, with the exception of one—“

“I was shit-faced drunk,” Kanda interrupts him with a glare. “I recognised him the next morning.”

“And then?”

“He didn’t recognise me then.”

“So you ran out,” Alma completes for him. “Did you freak out?” A grunt. “I’ll assume you did. Fuck, you should’ve called me. Yuu—“

“Don’t,” Kanda snaps. “Don’t you fucking dare say it. I’m over the fucking idiot. It’s just,” he swallows uncomfortably. “...just a shock.”

“Right,” Alma nods, although his stare clearly says he doesn’t believe a word. “Okay…okay…but I gotta ask this: was he good?” At the heated glare he receives, he raises his hands in surrender. “I’m asking from a purely objective point of view. Like on a rate from one to everyone you’ve slept with, how good was he?”

“I—…I don’t remember much.”

“Bummer,” Alma blinks. “So what now? Seems like you’re in some serious destiny fate thing. One’s an incident and two’s a coincidence but three’s a pattern. It’s a total pattern if you’re gonna have to see him regularly.”

“Shut up. And I don’t fucking know.”

“Okay…do you think you’re up for meeting him again? You kind of have to, since your old man put you in charge of him,” Alma starts carefully. “Or you could just tell—“

“No.”

“Yuu—“

“ _Alma_.”

Alma bites his tongue. “Fine. But I’m just saying, Tiedoll will understand. You know he will.”

“I don’t even understand it myself,” Kanda scoffs. “I’m so fucked up.”

“None of this is your fault, okay, Yuu? Why can’t you understand that? There’s nothing wrong with you—“

“But there _is_ something wrong with me!” Kanda hisses. “Fuck. You know it. Normal people don’t get sick just thinking of a crowd of people. Normal people don’t want to throw up at the thought of someone they know. Normal people don’t call other people in the middle of a _fucking panic attack_ because _they can’t fucking breathe_ —“ he shakes his head, voice cracking. “I fucking _know_ I’m fucked up, Alma. If I’m not fucked up then what the _fuck_ does that make me?”

Alma swallows at the outburst, staring at the movement of Kanda’s back as the other struggles to breathe in roughly.

“Human,” he says after a while, as they sit side by side in silence. “It makes you human.”


	3. Two

It’s inevitable, but they meet. As much as Kanda doesn’t want to see Lavi’s face he has to, because if he makes too many excuses or requests someone else to take over this particular duty Tiedoll will start to ask questions and that’s an even worse case scenario. Besides, he does need Lavi to get familiar with their contracts or else there’s going to be a hold up on their administrative side, and he’d be dammed if _he_ is the cause of it. If he can get his act together right, he can stomach the redhead in the same room for an hour or two. He can. All he has to do is to give Lavi the files, point out their special cases and run through the standard procedures. The redhead is quick to pick up things despite how idiotic he acts on a daily basis—Kanda’s sure if he’d just be able to get this done, Lavi can deal with the proceedings without his help, and they never have to see each other again except during the signings.

All he has to do, is to not remember the past.

There’s no point to it all anymore, anyway, is there? So what if Lavi still makes his stomach flip like seven years ago? They’ve haven’t been in contact all this while. Lavi probably isn’t the same person anymore. Hell, for all he knows, Lavi has someone else, someone else who he’s happier with—happy with. Who’s to say Lavi even _cares_ now?

_9:04 a.m._

The fucking asshole is late.

He’s always late, Kanda thinks viciously as he drums his fingers on his table, folders all neatly laid out. He’s only waiting for this stupid meeting to be _over_ , and that cannot happen if the said person doesn’t turn up. He takes the extra minutes to run through what he’s prepared to say. Clients, contracts, procedures. It’s simple enough that he can do this in his sleep since he’s handled it for a couple of years now.

_9:06 am_.

Fucking Lavi.

At _9:11 am_ his door bursts open.

“Sorry, sorry, I am so sorry I swear!” Lavi babbles, shutting the door behind him. “I left home like thirty minutes early and I still got stuck on the tube. There was a train breakdown before mine, and the congestion was just—“

“Shut up,” Kanda grinds his teeth, already feeling his stomach tighten. He makes a mental note to tell the reception to _never_ let Lavi barge his way in.

Lavi clamps his mouth shut, eye wide. He’s still breathing heavily from his obvious haste to get here, chest rising and falling rapidly. He looks lost as if he suddenly realises who he’s talking to, and his facial features stiffen slightly.

“I apologise for being late,” he says one last time with a distinctly formal air before pulling at the scarf at his neck—orange, fucking _neon orange_. “It won’t happen again.”

Kanda trains his eyes on his desk as he scowls. “Sit. There’s a lot to go through.”

Lavi does so obediently, though Kanda can feel the constant glances at him, like the redhead _wants_ to say something but can’t bring himself to. Kanda doesn’t give him a chance, instantly sliding over a stack of files.

“Read them,” he orders curtly.

The redhead looks at it warily. “All of them? Now?”

“Yes,” Kanda says impatiently. “There’s no point in explaining anything until you know who the fuck our clients are. Read.”

“You don’t always have to be so forceful, Yuu,” Lavi mutters, grabbing the file.

Kanda clenches his fingers unseen underneath the table at the sound of his name. He doesn’t want to hear it from Lavi so easily, not his first name, not when it brings him back to—no. He’s not going to think about it.

His office is dreadfully silent and while he likes it that way, it’s not helping the situation in this particular time. Pages flip at a steady pace—Lavi’s always been an incredibly quick reader with his unfair memory advantage, one of the reasons why Kanda rather the redhead read them now instead of taking them home (Kanda does not want to deal with the possibility of leaked information/missing property). There is nothing to do as Lavi reads the folder quietly, lips pressed tight together.

Kanda finds himself inevitably watching Lavi; the bumps on the fingers on his right hand from too much writing, his habit of nonsensical finger drumming when he’s concentrating, the dead blank stare when he absorbs information into his brain. His hair is still as red as ever, still looks as soft as ever, and maybe it is, underneath his fingers during _that_ night—stop. Stop.

He takes in an inconspicuous breath before he chokes. His windpipe still feels unnaturally tight, but it’s good so far—the urge to gag is sitting low in his stomach—not absent but not forcing its way out either—and he rewinds Alma’s advice to count as he breathes.

_Count your fingers, Yuu. Count them._

When he flicks his gaze to Lavi at the end of ten he catches the other peeking at him from above the file.

“What?” he snaps.

“Nothing,” Lavi mumbles, eye shooting back to the paper.

Minutes pass and the dead silence except for Lavi’s irritating finger drumming continues, folder by folder being placed onto the read stack.

“Are we going to talk about it?” Lavi says completely suddenly on his fifth file, not even looking up.

It’s pathetic but Kanda knows exactly what Lavi is referring to, and this _is_ the situation they’re in; tension so tight that it’s starting to crack.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he states, voice flat.

“Right,” Lavi replies, gaze still moving rapidly down his sheet of paper.

_“Right,” the teenage boy in front of him says awkwardly after a minute of silence._

_Kanda is too busy cursing life in general to pay attention. Fuck, even if he hated middle school he’d rather go back now, because back then he had Alma and now he’s stuck in a sea of unknown strangers who will most likely stay as unknown strangers till he graduates. He feels queasy just being in a place with so many people. So what if he’s forced to attend orientation? The outcome will be the same as he predicts—everyone will learn to avoid him by the end of the two years, and no one will know his first name. It’s just a fact of life that he’s anti-social. He knows it, and, it’s not like he wants to be this way._

_It’s just him. It’s always been him._

_This stupid get-to-know your partner game isn’t going to change anything. Especially not when his partner is a weird one-eyed redhead._

_“If you don’t know what to say to introduce yourself,” the boy continues slowly, uncertain. “I’ll just ask questions…? Okay?” he’s clearly intimidated by the dark scowl Kanda has on, but ploughs forward anyway. “Awesome.”_

_Kanda edges back at the enthusiastic excitement, looking wary. Even if the boy had blabbered on for the past few minutes introducing himself, he hadn’t exactly listened, except bits and bits like “I’m Brit-born” and “my blood is a ton of Euro” or something. He certainly doesn’t recall whatever this guy’s name is._

_“So, basics. I’m Lavi, if you’ve forgotten already. What’s your name?” The other pouts at the lack of response, and it looks too childish for someone at their age._

_“…”_

_“If you’re mute you can sign your name. I can sign too,” he says, and starts moving his hands in a pattern that makes no sense to Kanda “…No?_ _¿Hablas español? Wait, no, you’re clearly Asian,” he muses as the weird hand gestures continue. “_ _Bahasa melayu? Hangugmal hae?_ _还是讲中文_ _?_ _日本語_ _?”_

_Kanda refuses to give the other the satisfaction of getting it right, but the recognition of the words are clear on his face. He doesn’t speak the language fluently since he’s been brought up in London for a very long time, but he does know that particular phrase._

_Lavi grins triumphantly. “_ _お名前はなんですか？_ _”_

_Kanda sours because he knows the redhead will not stop until he gets what he wants. “…Kanda,” he says very reluctantly._

_Fuck, why did this guy even choose him as a partner? He’d be much more comfortable sitting out of this activity._

_“That’s a start,” the teen nods. “Now, your first name.”_

_“Kanda,” he repeats, scowling._

_“I know it’s not,” Lavi sings, apparently getting immune to the hostile expressions Kanda’s been putting on._

_“What the hell do you know?” Kanda snaps loudly, instantly wincing inwardly at his own harsh tone._

_And that’s just it. He doesn’t feel right around people and he can’t control his temper. He really should’ve just pretended to be sick._

_“I know ‘Kanda’ is a Japanese surname,” Lavi explains, leaning forward curiously. “Are you full blooded Jap? You have blue eyes, which is an incredibility rare genetic trait in Asians,” he squints. “You’re really pretty ya know.”_

_“I’m not a fucking girl,” Kanda grits out, because it’s been one too many times already._

_“Chill out, dude. I know. It’s just an adjective. I wasn’t implying anything else,” the redhead says easily, getting more comfortable. “So, are you half? Or a quarter? Or like a salad dish mix like me?” he presses._

_Kanda tries to take a deep breath and control his temper—control, control,_ control _—and at the end of the next ten minutes, Kanda has told Lavi more personal information about himself than he has to anyone in his life excluding Alma._

_How the fuck does that happen?_

Lavi closes the last folder he’s holding with a snap. “Look,” he starts with a deep breath, obviously ready with intent. “About—“

“Nothing happened,” Kanda states over him evenly, jaw clenching tight. “Are you done?”

The redhead looks like he wants to protest but he eventually gives a curt nod. “Yes.”

Kanda drags the pile of folders back towards him, just so as to create a mini wall between them.

“You know our clients,” he begins stiffly, having memorised what to say with the shortest time possible. “All the contracts we have outstanding are listed in the folders. The originals are kept with me if you need them, but there should be no problems with any of our current proceedings. I deal with any of our clients when they want to sell a piece, you come in when they want to buy, or if their bid from the auction has gone through. Here’s the standard paperwork for each of the cases—“ he pushes the relevant papers towards the other. “—memorise our clauses and make it clear to our clients. If any discrepancies come up, your company will pay the balance, is that clear?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Lavi says as he skims more paperwork, joy. “What if the client has issues with your clauses? Are you guys open for negotiation, or—“

“They don’t,” Kanda replies flatly. “The client that you will deal with most often is _Noah’s Ark_ ,” he continues, pushing another file to Lavi. “They tend to buy contemporary art, especially sculptures and paintings. They have a bid in place for a _Georg Herold_ sculpture, which means you’ll most likely be meeting them in a week.”

“Okay,” the redhead nods slowly, “Can I ask you something?”

_“Can I ask you something?” Lavi asks him one day after class, outside the computer lab._

_The corridor is empty since it’s late, bordering on the evening, and Lavi has an odd look to his features as he adjusts the straps of his backpack._

_“What?” Kanda turns to stare at him questioningly._

_It’s been nine months and somehow the redhead considers himself his_ best friend _, and Kanda doesn’t understand how it happened. Grudgingly he can admit he’s been spending all his time in school with Lavi, because Lavi laughs off his glares and curses and hangs onto him by the shoulder and teases him every single day._

_He really thought he’d be sitting at the back of the class every day without the need to open his mouth, but in reality he’s exchanged words with most of the boys in their class even if most of it are to order them to shut Lavi up. He’s too busy being annoyed by Lavi to think about sitting alone, to or be alone—and suddenly, with Lavi by his side, he_ isn’t _alone._

_It’s a strange thing that he’s getting used to. It’s a strange thing actually_ liking _it. The cheesy grins start being less aggravating, the accent starts being less annoying and more familiar. The touching starts being a constant, and it’s weird._

_It churns his gut like it does when strangers try to talk to him. It makes it hard to swallow when the redhead makes inappropriate comments about his appearance. It makes him feel slightly warm when Lavi enthusiastically shouts cutesy nicknames at him across the classroom every morning, even though they both know it’s just one of the other’s daily antics to get a rise out of him._

_But it doesn’t make sense because he is—god-forbid he admits this ever—_ comfortable _with Lavi. Lavi isn’t like the other people he doesn’t know anymore. He knows Lavi._

_He knows the fucking idiot._

_Who, still hasn’t said a word._

_“I’m leaving,” Kanda announces, turning on his heel._

_“Wait!” Lavi scrambles. “W-wait, Yuu! It’s important!”_

_“_ What _the fuck is it?” he sighs exasperatedly. “I need to catch the bus.”_

_“Okay,” the redhead says. “Okay, um,” his expression twists uncomfortably, which makes Kanda curious because he rarely sees Lavi being_ uncomfortable _. “Um, I, err…um—“_

_“Are you going to spit it out or not?”_

_“Yes, yes,” he nods frantically. “Okay, okay,” he pauses, and then rushes out. “What would you do if I told you I liked you?”_

_“…What..?” Kanda blinks, confused._

_Lavi continues nodding, obviously fidgety._

_“What…am I supposed…to do?” Kanda says slowly, frowning._

_When the confused air doesn’t dissipate, Lavi sucks in a breath. “Look, I really hope this doesn’t get weird, but I...I uh…Ireallylikeyou.” When silence follows, he tries again. “I said…I like you. In the gay way,” he winces. “As in, more than a friend. More than a best friend. I…—“ he falters, maybe because he’s pressing a hand to his mouth trying not to blush like a tomato._

_Kanda just stands stone still, except for the minute trembling of his fingers that Lavi doesn’t notice._

_“Yuu?” the redhead ventures quietly after a minute of awkward silence. “I-I..I’m sorry, I just…—just pretend I never said that,” he says quickly. “I’ll, um, I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye,” he hurries out, disappearing down the staircase behind him._

_Kanda stares at the empty stairwell._

_Lavi just—…what?_

_What?_

_The queasy feeling in his stomach suddenly kicks in at full force and he tears his eyes away to look elsewhere, anywhere, anywhere away from the lingering traces of Lavi, Lavi who said_ he likes him _? He lifts a hand to his eye level and vaguely notices that it’s trembling. It’s trembling so hard._

_Suddenly he realises he’s standing at the bus stop and he doesn’t know how he got there. Maybe, maybe it was just a dream. Maybe Lavi didn’t say anything, it’s just his brain and a stupid imagination._

What would you do if I told you I liked you?

_How could anyone_ like _him? How? How could anyone like someone so rude and rough and uncaring and_ fucked up _and—_

“—no, you _do not_ say a word about the price they offer for any art piece. It’s their fucking money,” Kanda grinds out, irritated. “You won’t have a clue about what it’s worth anyway.”

“And I suppose you do?” Lavi raises a sarcastic eyebrow.

“Yes,” Kanda states. “Any other stupid questions?”

Lavi grumbles under his breath but keeps it inaudible. “No,” he mutters. “Always so bossy.”

“And you never know when to shut up.”

The redhead stares at him for the slipped comment.

_Count your fingers, Yuu. Count them._

“Yuu—“

“We’re done,” Kanda states firmly. “I have another meeting now.”

It’s a barely polite way of saying _please get the fuck out of my office_ , and Lavi isn’t stupid, not in the least. Kanda clearly doesn’t want to talk about anything. Not about why he was ditched seven years ago. Not about what has happened since then. Not about their apparent one-night stand. Not about _them_ —not about anything.

“Right,” he says, tone controlled. “I’ll see you in a week then.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply—he knows one won’t come—and stalks out of the office, never looking back once. He doesn’t bother to close the door because he know it’ll piss Kanda off—so predictable are your habits, Yuu—because it’s very clear what he stands to Kanda now, then, and probably forever:

Tiedoll is standing by the reception when he reaches, and he carefully rearranges his stony expression to look less like a serial murderer. Thankfully Tiedoll is talking to someone that buys him time to plaster a polite smile.

“Yuu didn’t tell me you were picking him up for lunch,” the elder says to someone who looks around the same age as he is, decked in a causal printed tee and low riding tight jeans.

“It’s a surprise,” the man places a finger on his lips and winks, earning a warm chuckle from Tiedoll.

“He’s currently in a meeting with—oh, Lavi!” Tiedoll smiles wide when Lavi steps closer.

“Sir,” he greets politely.

“Is everything fine?”

“Y-yeah,” Lavi grins, even if it feels so fake. “Yuu talked me through everything.”

“I hope he explained it properly to you,” Tiedoll muses. “My boy tends to use the least number of words as possible to make his points. But no matter. If you’re unclear about anything, please feel free to ask anyone.”

“Thank you.”

“Yuu’s free now right?” the youth standing with them asks, eyes bright.

“Go ahead,” Tiedoll smiles, patting the other on the shoulder.

The man grins brighter and flicks his gaze over to Lavi, line of sight travelling down in a slow once over. Lavi meets the hidden judgemental stare with a false smile of his own. He doesn’t know why but whoever this is, he irks him. Irks him really badly because it feels like this guy knows something about him, something that he can’t place.

The other does a two finger salute at him or Tiedoll, he can’t tell, with a grin that borderlines a smirk, disappearing down the corridor towards Kanda’s office.

Lavi bids Tiedoll a good day and walks slowly to the tube station, thankful for the gust of cool autumn air.

Kanda has obviously moved on with someone else. Someone else who calls him by his first name and who’s already met the family, it seems, unlike him who never had the privilege of knowing who Kanda’s foster father was. If he known…if he had known, he’d never would’ve came to _Eden’s Art_.

It’s ridiculous, when he thinks about it.

It’s been seven years.

He’d been angry for the first couple, and then the anger wore him out. Sometimes he thinks about Kanda and the quiet “Me too.” that the other muttered with his face blushing, sometimes he thinks about the last time he ever saw Kanda, walking out of the school gate never looking back. Sometimes he doesn’t think about Kanda anymore, because there’s no point to it. It’s just heartache after heartache after a _fucking ghost_ and it’s not worth it.

He’s moved on too. He’d be _stupid_ if he didn’t. A high school crush will never be the love of his life. Teenagers think that their first love would be _the one_ and Lavi thought so too, but the truth is, you fall in love more than once. And it’ll just be as extraordinary and amazing as the first one, and maybe just as painful. He’s done dating and break ups after Kanda. He’s done amazing sex and bad hook ups after Kanda.

He’s got a ton of achievements and regrets after Kanda. All _nothing_ to do with Kanda.

So why, _why_ , after all these years, does it still feel so painful in the chest?

* * *

Alma runs to Kanda’s office the moment he knows Tiedoll and Lavi can’t see him. He ignores the stares he gets from the other workers—they’ll get over it, they’ve seen him enough times in the office anyway—and pushes at Kanda’s door urgently when the door doesn’t let him through.

“Yuu?” he knocks, not too loudly. “It’s me.”

The door widens up a small crack that Alma scrambles to push through and shuts it quietly once he’s inside. Kanda sits with his back against the door on the floor, head between his knees.

“Yuu,” Alma crouches worriedly. “Are you okay?” he murmurs gently, palm rubbing against Kanda’s back in slow circles. “Can you look at me?”

Kanda shakes his head slowly, a shuddering gasp filtering in between. Alma presses closer, arm winding around the other’s shoulders. “He’s gone. I saw him leave. You did it. You did well. It’s all okay, Yuu. It’s okay now.”

It sort of works, because Kanda feels steadier under his hold but his breathing rate is still too rapid to be normal.

“You counted your fingers, right? How many were there?”

“…Ten.”

“Ten,” Alma echoes, nodding. “Count mine?”

Kanda barks a harsh laugh that’s probably meant to be a mixture of a snort and a sneer, but he chokes on his tightened windpipe.

“It’s too early for you to be laughing at me,” Alma huffs. “Just count, you ass.”

“One,” Kanda forces out despite his uneven breaths. “Two.”

“Three,” Alma joins him. “Good, very good. Four. I’m up till four.”

“Five,” Kanda continues, tone getting more normal. “Six. Seven. Eight.”

“Nine.”

“Fucking ten,” he finishes, leaning his head back.

“Gold star for you,” Alma grins, patting his shoulder. 

Kanda doesn’t retort, but he does glare at the other, though, it looks distinctly tired.

_He’s so jittery that he can’t concentrate in class. Fuck Lavi. Fuck Lavi and his stupid confession. Fuck Lavi and his stupid confession on a Friday. Which meant the entire weekend was spent wondering if it was just a hallucination or if it actually happened, and if it actually happened, what is he supposed to_ do _?_

What would you do if I—

What would you do—

_What the fuck is he supposed to do?_

_The bell rings for break time and Kanda can’t find it in him to feel hungry even though he skipped breakfast. In fact, he actually feels like he needs to throw up._

_“Yuu?” Lavi’s hand on his shoulder startles him. “You okay?”_

_The classroom has gone empty, and Kanda didn’t even notice everyone else leaving. He wants to say_ yes, yes it’s okay _but no, it’s fucking_ not _. Because._

_“Yuu?” the redhead starts, concerned. “This…this isn’t about last week right?” he mumbles nervously, hand scratching his neck. “I said just forget about it, yeah? I’m fucking hungry, so let’s—”_

_“Me too.”_

_Fuck. Fuck why did he just_ say _that? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Kanda wants to stand and he almost tries to stand but he can’t really feel his feet so he stays put in his seat, glaring at the table. The tip of his ears feel red hot and he resists touching his face just because he knows it’s coloured the same._

_Lavi stands open mouthed gaping, hand on his neck dropping slack. “Um.”_

_It was a joke right? A stupid joke that Kanda stupidly fell for, because there’s no way anyone could—_

_The redhead pulls out the chair from the desk in front of him and plants himself down, because he isn’t sure how long he can keep standing. He has a kind of an expression that’s unreadable, and Kanda can feel the intense gaze that’s prodding insistently._

_“What,” he growls, but it’s almost inaudible._

_“Are we dating now?” Lavi asks, looking the most serious Kanda’s ever seen him._

_The blunt question catches him off guard—more than this whole weird situation already has. But Lavi is still looking at him intently, eye occasionally flicking down to his mouth until the other visibly catches himself. Lavi is leaning forward unconsciously, forward, forward, wetting his lips and—_

“…I want to forget,” Kanda says bitterly.

“I know,” Alma leans his head on Kanda’s shoulders and murmurs. “I know.”

* * *

Lavi sits up abruptly in his uncomfortable chair at his own office when he’s flicking at the stack of contracts with the clauses he’s supposed to be familiar with within a week’s time.

His scarf.

Is in Kanda’s office.


	4. Three

“…—are you listening to me, Kanda?”

“Kanda! _Kanda_!”

“What,” Kanda huffs, wincing at the sudden rise in volume at his ear. He tears away his stare on the orange scarf in his hands irritably, cursing himself for getting distracted.

He should’ve left the stupid scarf to burn in his office, except he couldn’t stand the sight of it draping over the chair so casually. It just reminded him of… of…well. Everything. He took it when he was leaving the office with the intention to dump it with the receptionist, except, he always left the office late, so of course the receptionist was gone. Seeing no other choice then to stupidly walk back down the corridor or taking it along, well, it ends up now at home, in his hands.

“Have you listened to a word I’ve been saying?” Lenalee’s usually gentle voice has an edge of exasperation to it over the phone.

Lenalee Lee, if Kanda would ever bother to introduce, is probably one of the few people he considers he’s _friends_ with. The concept is still weird to him and their friendship began even stranger—in France. He was a college student then. She was in high school with a post-doc brother specialising in neurorobotics. Kanda always had a preference for Asian food and so he became a frequent customer at a Chinese takeaway near his dorm where she was a part timer. She was delighted to see his familiar face weekly, and maybe it was their ethnic-ship (however far) in a country full of people not like them that they somehow gotten along. Her brother was miffed by the relationship, but that quickly changed when it was known Kanda’s preference did not lie with girls.

“…Yes.”

“Right,” the girl says, oddly enthusiastic. “So, is that a yes?”

“Yeah, yea—“ he starts, then pauses suspiciously. “Wait, what the fuck am I agreeing to?”

Lenalee’s laughter follows. “You’re not allowed to back out on this one, since you’ve given me your word.”

Kanda grumbles, regretting that he should’ve just admitted that he wasn’t listening. “What is it?”

“Dinner—“

“—I’m not having dinner with your idiot brother,” he says immediately.

Lenalee can pretend to cry and use all sorts of puppy eye tactics but it isn’t going to work if she wants him to come over for dinner again with her creepy psychotic brother.

“Just let me finish will you?” Lenalee huffs. “It’s not dinner with my brother. It’s dinner with a…a friend. He’s one of the new phD students at the lab. He came down from Cambridge recently, so I thought it’d be nice to show him around London for a bit.”

“Friend,” Kanda repeats slowly after Lenalee finishes. “Why are you dragging me along for some stupid meal with your friend?”

“Because,” Lenalee starts, tone obviously shifting to a whine that she knows works on him. “Because…he’s a _guy_.”

“So? Is he a creep?”

“No! He’s really nice, I swear! Even you’d like him!”

“Doubt it.”

“You would too.”

“Whatever. So what’s the fucking deal?”

“So…my brother doesn’t, well, you know, _approve_.”

“So?”

“So it’ll put his mind at ease if _you’re_ there.”

“No.”

“ _Kanda_ ,” he can practically hear her pouting over the phone. “Please. You promised.”

“That was before I knew I was going to be the third wheel on your stupid date,” he retorts. “I don’t care what the fuck you do with your…‘ _friend’_ ,” he grimaces as he pronounces the dubious word. “Just leave me out of it.”

“But I can’t do _anything_ even if I wanted to, you know that!” Lenalee cries, frustrated. “I’m already _twenty four_ , I just want a date without my brother going ballistic—“

Kanda scoffs. “Sounds like a personal problem to me.”

“Kanda, please?” she lowers her voice. “My brother likes you, so—“

“He only likes me because I’m not a threat to your virginity,” Kanda states flatly. “He tried to cut my fucking hair the first time.”

“—my brother likes you,” Lenalee repeats firmly. “So if you’re there, the four of us having dinner will be just like a bunch of friends having dinner, and not a date.”

Kanda frowns. “Four?”

“He’s bringing a friend too,” she says. “It’ll be fun! Besides,” she begins mischievously. “I heard his friend is pretty good looking, single _and_ he likes guys, so, you might just—“

“Lenalee. Shut up or I won’t go to your stupid thing.”

Lenalee squeals instantly. “You’re the best! I’ll text you the time and place!”

“…You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she grins. “I’ll see you on Friday then! Love you!”

Kanda scowls as he waits for Lenalee to giggle and sigh exasperatedly at his insistence to never say the terms of endearment back before ending the call. He tosses his cellphone somewhere towards his bed, leaning back down to sit on the floor. He had been squatting in the upmost uncomfortable position for the past ten minutes, poised over his lowest drawer.

Lavi’s scarf sticks out starkly against his pristine floor. Fuck, he even hates the sight of the article of clothing. He grumbles as he snatches it up and stuffs it into the bottom drawer. He doesn’t bother to yank the drawer out fully but instead shoves it in rather messily through a crack—only because he doesn’t really care about it, he just wants it out of his sight—and also because he doesn’t want to see another identical scarf from many years ago sitting in that drawer too.

* * *

Alma laughs at him when he tells—or bitches to—the other about the upcoming dinner on Friday morning over breakfast at  _Lantana Cafe_ . Alma has gotten sticky lately, demanding to meet up almost every day and he knows why—he’s half grateful and half annoyed by the cook’s presence. Nothing interesting happens over the course of the week though. Lavi doesn’t turn up at the office for his missing scarf, Kanda shoves it out of his mind that he actually has it at home. Work is as normal as it is, thank fucking god.

After Lavi, Kanda’s pretty sure nothing else can take the cake, not even meeting Lenalee’s weird friends. The girl has picked _Abeno_ for her not-date, the only place they know of in central London that serves okonomiyaki. At least it is something he eats and not something like fucking fish and chips—maybe Lenalee knows he’ll just ditch her if that’s the case.

“Hey, have you ever thought of getting it on with her brother?” Alma asks completely seriously as he drizzles his pancakes with so much maple syrup, Kanda can’t even see the pancake anymore. “I mean, he approves of you although he’s so _anti-man_. Maybe it’s not actually about guys coming after Lenalee but he could actually want to tap _you_.”

Kanda can’t even manage a response as the sheer _horrification_ of that suggestion blew his mind. “…Ew.”

“Think about it! It’s totally possible right?”

“No. Just,” Kanda shudders. He actually puts his fork down. “No. Komui is fucking _forty_ —“

“Actually, thirty eight—“

“—ew fuck, you’re fucking _sick_.”

“So?” Alma raised his eyebrows as he stuffs a pancake into his mouth and chews. “Your mister _numero_ _uno_ was a downright _creep_ and you still banged him.”

“Stop bringing him up, you dick. But, at least I have _taste_ ,” Kanda retorts. “Have you _seen_ the fucking sister complex?”

“Nope,” Alma replies cheerfully. “I’d love to, as I’ve told you a million times.”

“You’re never meeting Lenalee or her creepy brother,” Kanda says for the nth time, picking up his fork stabbed with a piece of banana bread. “Never.”

“Never say never,” Alma sings. “Anyway, you should be happy you have friends—other than me—to take you out.”

“She’s just using me,” Kanda snorts.

“Because it’s so like you’ve never gotten free food because of her for two years or anything,” Alma says with a smirk.

Only two, because Lenalee and her brother moved to London for her college degree in psychology, and it was probably just so lucky that Kanda’s home is back here too that their friendship did not waver.

“I didn’t ask for it.”

“And you ate them anyway. For two years.”

“Fuck you.”

“I love how you always regress to that when you know I’m right,” Alma grins. “Besides, it could be fun. Lenalee’s there, you don’t have to worry about…you know.”

Kanda scoffs. “What’s so fun about meeting a bunch of idiots?”

“Meeting a bunch of idiots, one of which might be your bed warmer for tonight. Have fun, Yuu,” Alma teases. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“I won’t do anything that _you_ would do,” Kanda says viciously, biting his bread. “Freak.”

* * *

Kanda reaches  _Abeno_ early, much to his disgruntlement. It’s true that he’s a stickler for time—because he hates it when other people are late (since he never is), and he has to stand awkwardly by himself until the douches arrive. He’d even left the office later than he should, but his walking pace is probably much faster than whatever it is dictated on his GPS.

The waitress shows him to the reserved four seater table with shy interested smile he’s used to. He takes the menu and flips through it idly, steadfastly ignoring his surroundings. It’s barely a minute later that he recognises Lenalee’s footsteps from the kind of dangerously thin high heels that she wears, and he doesn’t get to face her properly before he’s pulled into a tight hug, angle made awkward by the fact that he’s seated.

“Woman,” he hisses, trying to edge away.

Lenalee beams, pretty eyes blinking innocently as she shifts properly to take the seat next to him. “Don’t give me that look. I haven’t seen you in a month.”

“With good reason—ow,” he glares at the feet pressing on the tip of his shoe.

A soft chuckle caches both of their attentions, and Lenalee sits up straighter, embarrassed. “Oh, Allen, please sit.”

The other guy who had presumably came with her smiles genially and seats himself on the opposite side. Kanda glances over briefly, attention caught by the white crop of hair and huge scar slashing from his forehead to his cheek. Upon closer inspection, whoever this is looks really young—maybe just out of high school, there’s no way the kid has a neuroscience undergraduate degree and be in Lenalee’s lab as a phD student. What the fuck—this guy is _most_ _definitely_ a creep. He even smiles like a creep.

A grade A creep.

“This is Allen,” Lenalee introduces. “He’s one I was telling you about, and Allen, this is Kanda.”

“Nice to—“ Allen stops abruptly, smile faltering. “…Kanda?” he says it like it’s a foreign word—fine, it is, but the fucking accent just _butchers_ it.

“What?” Kanda snaps.

The younger looks taken aback, blinking rapidly. “…N-nothing. Your name is just a little…”

“A little what?” Kanda grinds out less heatedly than he would have, because Lenalee holds his wrist in warning.

“I mean, your name is quite unusual,” Allen settles on, looking unsure. “I don’t mean anything bad by it! I just, haven’t…haven’t heard it before.”

Kanda’s scowl doesn’t lessen. He is generally not a nice guy, but there’s something about this beansprout that he _really_ doesn’t like. The younger looks at him like he _knows_ something and doesn’t know what to do about it. It pisses him off.

“He’s half-Japanese, if that’s what you’re wondering—“ Lenalee attempts to explain before Kanda makes his disdain clear, but she’s interrupted by another voice—this time, _this_ one, Kanda _really_ fucking hates.

“ _Al_ len!”

He hates it because he immediately feels like throwing up, like a gag reflex. His skin goes cold, because there’s just no way—no fucking way— but he doesn’t even need to glance up to recognise that fucking irritating way _Lavi_ curls his letters.

What the _fuck_.

“Hey, Lavi,” Allen smiles slightly strained when he looks up at the other.

The redhead is in obvious shock, hand loose on Allen’s shoulder from his greeting and gaze frozen at the sight of the half-Japanese man seated across. Because Allen is privy to a rough idea of the history behind the two, he easily sees through the fake plastic smile Lavi recovers with.

“It’s about time you introduced me,” Lavi teases, tone kept carefully light as he takes his seat right across Kanda. “I’ve heard so much about the beautiful lady, except her name,” he mock whispers to Lenalee who giggles.

“This is Lenalee,” Allen starts, nudging his friend in the ribs. “And…Kanda. Well, um, this is Lavi. He was my college senior.”

“Nice to meet you,” Lenalee smiles, nodding.

When Kanda doesn’t look up, she elbows him discreetly under the table, shooting him a look. He scowls in her direction and she rolls her eyes, and for once he is thankful for his horrible deposition that Lenalee just assumes its normal behaviour.

“I’m sure Kanda’s delighted to meet you both, but I suppose he’s a tad too hungry,” she says, shaking her head. “Shall we order?”

What are the chances of meeting Lavi again, right?

_Fucking bullshit._ Kanda thinks sourly as he grabs the menu closer and pretends to look intently at it. Why the hell is god _not_ leaving him the fuck alone?

Although he stares at the printed words on paper nothing registers, except for the tremor in his hand from gripping it too tight. He shoved his hands under the table to hide it from view, clenching them tightly. Count your fingers, he reminds himself, slow tapping each of them to keep his breathing under control. He feels like Lavi is glancing over so often at him but he can’t be sure, because he doesn’t want to look up.

When the waitress comes, Allen peeks over his menu to see everyone else deep in thought with their own decisions. “Lenalee? Would you like to order first?”

“You go ahead, I’m still deciding.”

“Are you sure?”

“Most definitely,” she frowns, squinting at a line.

Lavi and Kanda are staring at the list of okonomiyakis available like it contains the secret to immortal life; Allen has no idea who they think they’re fooling with the choking tension, but he isn’t going to make a scene if both of them want to ignore it. He glances unsurely at Lenalee for a last moment before shrugging.

“In that case—“ he says, looking at the waitress. “I’ll have the two portions of the tofu salad, four servings of tempura kakiage, four of the chicken kushikatsu, five yaki-gyoza, two ebi itame, one large tonpei-yaki, spicy please, an onigiri shake, the super deluxe Osaka and Tokyo mixes, the Abeno special—“

“…Excuse me for a sec,” Kanda mutters, abruptly standing up.

The chair scrapes the floor in a sharp screech, but he’s stalking towards the restrooms before anyone can make eye contact with him.

Allen falters in his list of orders but he resumes it when Lavi doesn’t seem to acknowledge the movement.

“—I think I’ll give the pork, squid and prawn om-soba a try too. And a miso soup,” he says, leaving the waitress to hurriedly scribble after his rattled orders. “For dessert,” he hums, flipping the page in thought. “For dessert…”

“I’ll go check up on Kanda for bit,” Lenalee interrupts smoothly, standing up from her seat. “Get me the spicy tsuruhashi okonomiyaki and a calpico. Thanks.”

There isn’t anything Allen can do but to watch Lenalee disappear towards the restrooms in curiosity before he continues his order. “…Do you serve mitarashi dango by any chance?”

* * *

Lenalee is far from stupid or oblivious—the tension that had settled when Allen’s redhead friend arrived was positively  _stifling_ . It might also be due to the fact that she’s working on a phD in psychology—neuropsyschology to be precise, and that she knows Kanda enough to know that something is up.

She’s pretty sure Kanda went to the restrooms not for its actual function, and that makes her really curious. Curious enough to shove the male restroom door open, forgetting about the fact that _other_ people could have been in it.

Apparently Kanda, who was standing by the urinals thought the same, because he startles badly when she steps in. “What the fuck—this is the _male_ toilet, you space cadet!”

“I know,” Lenalee rolls her eyes, settling her hands on her hips. “I came in to find you.”

She doesn’t miss the subtle movement of his hand shoving his phone into his back pocket. “In the fucking toilet? Are you a pervert?”

“As good looking as you are, I am really not attracted to your horrible personality,” Lenalee huffs indignantly. “What’s up, Kanda?”

Kanda shoots her a distinctly confused glare and she sighs, lowering her voice.

“You know Allen’s friend?” she questions quietly, folding her arms. “Lavi?”

She can clearly see that Kanda wants to lie about it from the panicked gaze darting, but eventually he clenches his jaw tightly and nods. “From work.”

He doesn’t asks how she guessed it—Lenalee’s always been more perceptive than he gives her credit for.

“And you don’t like him?” she presses.

He wants to say _yes, yes he fucking_ hates _Lavi_ , but the words don’t get out. Instead, he says, “…We had a fight.”

“I see,” Lenalee nods. “Do I need to talk to him?”

“No.”

She doesn’t look convinced. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No!” Kanda snaps before he can reign the impulse in. “It’s…it’s a stupid thing. I can deal with it.”

“Okay,” Lenalee says.

She looks at him thoughtfully and Kanda isn’t comfortable with any kind of understanding that she will conclude with.

“Lenalee,” he grinds out after a minute of silence.

“Yeah?”

“Can you get out?”

She looks offended until he gestures at their surroundings. “I’m in the fucking _toilet_ for a reason.”

“Oh,” she winces, bashful. “Um. Right. Sorry.”

It’s only after a long echo of silence after her exit that Kanda digs out his phone again, and tries to resume his text to Alma with shaky hands.

* * *

“Your girl just went into the male toilets,” Lavi says completely flabbergasted after their orders have been taken.

Allen flushes. “She’s not ‘my girl’, she’s just…Lenalee,” he replies, because over the past few weeks that he’s gotten to know the Chinese girl, he’s been learning that Lenalee is one of a kind. His next sentence starts with a lot more caution. “That’s him right?” he murmurs, softer. “ _The_ Kanda?”

He expects an outburst or a grunt, but what he gets instead is Lavi’s stony silence.

“Lavi…” he ventures cautiously, touching the other on the arm. “Are you okay?”

“No,” the redhead states flatly, but it loosens up into smile obviously strained. “Yes. _Yes_ ,” Lavi attempts to roll his eye. “Sheesh. I was just kidding.”

Allen doesn’t buy it for a second. “I swear I had no idea he was going to be here. Lenalee just said she was bringing a friend, and—“

“Dude, chill,” Lavi cuts him off. “You wouldn’t have known. Who the fuck would expect this right?” he mutters somewhat sarcastically to himself. “Small world. Too small.”

And yet, he hadn’t seen Kanda once in the past seven years.

“Didn’t you meet him on Monday?” Allen questions curiously. “Did something happen, or—

“Nothing happened.”

“But—“

“Nothing happened,” Lavi repeats, this time more dully. “Like, literally. He didn’t want to talk. So we didn’t.”

Allen frowns to himself, at a loss of how to respond. They sit quietly until Lenalee reappears back at the table.

“We didn’t order for Kanda, because we didn’t know what he’d want,” Allen says.

Lenalee hums in thought. “If he doesn’t come out soon we’ll just get him the prawn yakisoba.”

Lenalee starts small talk by asking what Lavi does for a living and chatter fills up the silence. Minutes pass before the conversation at the table starts to trickle. She doesn’t miss the way the redhead avoids looking at the empty seat beside her although it’s _empty_. When it’s clear that Kanda isn’t getting out of the restroom any time soon, she presses her lips together.

There’s once when she and Kanda fought, many years ago—she can’t remember why or what, but she does remember that Kanda will never make the first move.

“Lavi,” Lenalee begins gently when there is a lapse. “I’m sorry to put this out, especially when we’ve just met. But. I’ve known Kanda for a very long time and trust me, I _know_ he can be a bit harsh,” to Lavi’s credit, his expression doesn’t betray anything, “And a lot of the things that he says or does tend to come off the wrong way, but he’s got a good heart,” she says evenly before attempting a softer tone. “I’m not taking sides because I’m sure you’re a perfectly nice guy, Lavi. Kanda can be extremely stubborn, so I’m asking you to be the better man and sort it out with him,” she states carefully. “I don’t know what argument you two had over work, but ignoring the issue isn’t going to help. Whatever it is, this is likely to affect your company’s performance as well, wouldn’t it?”

Lavi swallows, obviously thinking of how to respond. It’s clear that Lenalee doesn’t know actual situation and for some reason he feels relieved that Kanda’s sharing habits has not changed, and yet he also feels annoyed at how _nobody_ knows what the half-Japanese thinks at all. He debates arguing his case—it’s not _his_ fault, it really isn’t—because _he’s_ all for talking about it.

He can talk about how her friend crushed his innocent heart so hard seven years ago that he’s more fucked up than he’d ever like to admit. He can talk about how her friend has no issue treating him as less than the dirt on the ground. He can talk about how she doesn’t really know who her friend is, because Kanda hasn’t showed himself to _own_ a heart.

But, he’s not that kind of guy.

“Yeah, I know. You’re right,” he says instead. “I’ll go sort it out with him.”

“Thank you,” Lenalee smiles.

Allen glances at him unsure, but the younger doesn’t stop from him leaving the table. Lavi heads towards where Kanda disappeared to, real expression of irritancy finally let through when he’s faced away from everyone else. Once at the restroom door he places a hand on it just for a short moment to breathe in.

He’ll just try for the last fucking time.

Kanda is leaning against the sink with his phone in his hands when he walks in. Hiding out in the toilet texting his boyfriend, Lavi thinks sourly, while he had to be the one to take the first step. Because life is just that fair. Kanda backtracks in shock and it’s clear that he wants to be anywhere but here, and Lavi doesn’t give him that satisfaction. He purposely crosses his arms whilst standing back against the door.

”Clearly you can’t avoid me forever,” Lavi begins, steely after a tense period of silence. “So let’s talk.”

“There is nothing to talk about,” Kanda says, and this exactly the reason why Lavi is so ready to punch a wall.

He is fucking _sick_ of this.

“Let’s start with this,” the redhead growls. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“Yeah?” Lavi snorts, glaring. “Then look me in the eye.”

Kanda tenses visibly but he does eventually meet the hardened gaze with a glare of his own. Lavi has no idea why he thought Kanda’s angry expressions were cute back then—now, it just mocks him sick to the stomach. He can remember how Kanda’s long hair would make him look softer when it’s let loose around his shoulders, he can remember laughing so hard when Kanda failed to shut him up from teasing. He can remember feeling like he was punched in the gut from how _beautiful_ Kanda looks—had looked when the other was embarrassed. Now, Kanda’s front bangs shadow his face to a darker cutting expression, and the short end at the nape makes his shoulders stick out more defensively.

Lavi takes a controlled breath. “Did you know it was me that night?”

He knows both of them know exactly what he’s referring to. There’s only _one_ night that they ever spent together.

But instead Kanda says, “What night?” like it doesn’t mean anything.

And maybe, it doesn’t.

“What the _fuck_ is your problem?” Lavi snarls, temper lost. “What the fuck did I do to you? Whatever shit you have with me, say it straight to my fucking face! Was it because I fucked you?” he growls low. “Because that would be _gold_ , Yuu. I didn’t hear anything but you begging me to fuck you harder.”

Kanda’s glare instantly goes stone cold in fury, and the tension in his clenched jaw makes it very clear that he’s barely controlling it. Lavi twitches his lips into a small smirk, goading. If Kanda isn’t going to say anything then fuck, Lavi is going to provoke him until he does.

“Is that it?” he taunts. “You want me to fuck you again? Like a whore?”

“You fucking _asshole_ ,” Kanda hisses. “You can go fuck yourself!”

Lavi takes a slow step forward, and Kanda steps back in reflex.

“Are you afraid I’m going to jump you or what?” Lavi frowns. “I’m over you, okay,” he snorts, rolling his eye. “You don’t have to worry a fucking shit about that.”

“What the fuck do you care?”

“I did, and then I realised I really don’t,” the redhead says flatly. “I only came in because your friend told me to. My buddy really likes this girl, and I’ll be dammed if _you’re_ the reason why this screws up.”

_Like how_ he’s _screwed them up_ , is the unsaid sentence.

“I don’t know what the _fuck_ is wrong with you,” Lavi continues. “But can you at least, for the sake of your friend, sit at the fucking table without running away like you always do?”

Kanda tightens his fists so tightly that even his blunt nails start to dig into his palm, close to drawing blood. The thing is, he has nothing to say in return. Lavi’s right about every single thing—it’s _his_ fault that he can’t stand to be in the presence of the other, it’s _his_ fault that he’s screwed them up, it’s _his_ fault that he will run away—and always, run away from this.

The flash of hurt glitters sharply in his eyes for a moment before it gets engulfed by shaking anger.

“What the fuck do you know,” he seethes darkly.

He hates to prove Lavi right but he also runs from this—he stalks forward, not caring if their shoulders clash painfully, and storms right out of the restroom.

Lavi stares at the empty vicinity, silence echoing sickly. Slowly he gets to the sink and washes his face, trying to clear his head. He’s over this. He’s so over this. He’s—he punches the mirror, shattering it. The force of his hit vibrates through his bones but he doesn’t feel it—nor does he feel the stinging pain, or the blood trickling down his knuckles.

“Lavi?”

He jumps at the sound of Allen’s concerned voice. “Ah—hi, Al,” his voice is slightly cracked as he attempts to lighten his tone.

“Kanda just left,” Allen starts carefully, attention obviously caught by the shattered glass. “He said he wasn’t feeling well. Err…is everything okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, yeah,” Lavi waves him off, shoving his hand into his pocket. “Is Lenalee still there?”

“Yes, but we—“

“Oh, good,” the redhead cuts him off smoothly, slinging an arm around his shoulder as he steers them both back to the table outside. He forces Allen to sit down and sighs regretfully. “I’m sorry I can’t stay. I’m afraid I’m not feeling too good either,” he says apologetically. “You two have fun. It was a pleasure meeting you, Lenalee.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply before he hurries out, unable to stand being inside for any longer. He vaguely registers Allen calling to him but it’s muted when the front door swings shut behind him. A chill breeze blows by, and he breathes in deep.

* * *

“You fucking asshole,” Alma says as he swipes the tequila shot out of Kanda’s hand.

Kanda clicks his tongue and lunges for the glass shot. “Give that back.”

But Alma basically slides the glass down the bar counter behind him. “Do you have any idea how worried I was?” he demands angrily. “I told you to go home, not to go into the nearest gay bar to get yourself fucking drunk!”

“Hey bloke,” A fair-faced redhead standing beside Kanda interrupts. “He agreed to let me fuck him—“

“Piss off, dick,” Alma snaps, annoyed. “Can’t you see that he’s not in his right fucking mind right now?”

The guy raises his hands in defence and walks away, shaking his head.

Kanda isn’t paying attention to either of them, hand raised to catch the attention of the bartender.

“Yuu, let’s go.”

“Leave me alone,” Kanda mutters.

Alma sighs and yanks him harshly by the arm.

“Fuck you, Alma—“

“Shut the fuck up,” Alma states dangerously, gripping his fingers tight on Kanda’s bicep. “Come home, or I’ll tell Tiedoll everything. _Come_.”

Kanda lets himself be dragged out this time, though his demeanour is icy. They say nothing as Alma hails a cab and rattles off his address, and the silence stays until they enter his living room, where Alma basically grabs him by the front of his shirt and forces him to sit on the couch.

The other then kneels on the floor at his feet.

“Look,” Alma starts quietly. “I know it’s rough, but getting drunk and letting some stranger fuck you is not the way to get over him,” he quickly continues when Kanda looks like he’s about to snarl something offensive. “Remember the aftermath?” he asks, staring straight at his best friend. “It’s worse. Tons worse than whatever you’re feeling now. Please don’t make the same mistake again, Yuu.”

Kanda lets loose a frustrated breath that he doesn’t know he was holding. When Alma says it then he remembers—the year straight after high school had been his worst. Being in a foreign country where he could only speak a smattering of phrases coupled with the constant high school memories that taunted him day and night, the gnawing feeling like the world was shrinking one heartache at a time chewed its way into his better sense. He had went to find someone to help him _forget_ —except, seven years later, he still hasn’t.

“It’s been seven years, Yuu,” Alma says with a bitter twist to his lips. “It fucks me over to say this, but I think if you can’t get over him all these years, you’re never getting over him.”

“I am over him.” Kanda retorts. “I just—“

Alma shakes his head. “Listen. I’ve been patient with you on this one because I know you don’t want to hear anything else, but,” he look at Kanda evenly. “You’re _not_ over him, Yuu. I don’t know _what_ this is—love or obsession, fuck if I know, but clinging on to him? It’s fucking you up _more_. I know you’ve been trying, but by god, it’s not working. Everyone you fuck is a redhead because _he’s_ a redhead, and you know it. So maybe the answer isn’t about getting over him. Maybe you have to _start over_ with him. How about it, Yuu?”

“How do you expect me to do that?” Kanda glares. “I can’t even—“ he grinds out frustrated. “I can’t even think about him without wanting to throw up, I—fuck—“

“Okay,” Alma nods slowly. “Why do you feel like throwing up? Back then it was because you were so crazy about him, and now, are you still…?”

“I don’t—“ Kanda’s voice cracks a little. “I don’t fucking know! You think I want this? You think I want to be in—in…—I just don’t—“

Alma watches him struggle with the sentence before he starts gently. “Why don’t you try to meet him half way? Maybe if you tell him, he’d—“

Kanda shakes his head before Alma finishes the sentence.

“Look,” Alma sighs. “I can’t see how this can get any worse. I mean, sorry for saying this, but he probably already hates you,” Kanda facial expression doesn’t change when he says it. “But if you tell him the reason why you react the way you do, he might—“

“No. I can’t,” Kanda snarls. “Fuck, I can’t—“

“Yuu,” Alma groans exasperatedly. “Why can’t you just—“

“Because I can’t!” Kanda yells at him, temper flying. “Because I _can’t_ ,” he repeats, voice hoarse.

Because back then he couldn’t tell Lavi the stupid reason why he started avoiding the other, and he still can’t, even now.

* * *

Lavi isn’t really paying attention to his surroundings as he dabs at his bloodied knuckles with a tissue, so it’s completely justified that he startles when a mug of beer slides over to his direction. He looks up at the man who grins in his direction—dark unblemished skin, slicked back hair, glittering eyes, a beauty mark below his left eye and a straight set of white teeth.

“I met a man once who had the same look in his eyes,” the man says by way of conversion, gaze travelling down once in a slow manner before the smile widens. “Eye,” he corrects later.

“Yeah?” Lavi snorts. “And what look is that?”

“The most pathetic look I’ve ever seen,” the man answers, seating himself into the seat next to his.

Lavi taps on his own empty mug of beer and decides to take the offered drink. “Do you say that to everyone you approach?”

The other shrugs non-committedly, pulling out a cigarette box. The stench of smoke joins the musky air seconds later, wisps flowing pass his lips as he breathes out. He cocks his head in offering. Lavi takes it—the guy is dressed decent in an understated work suit and a watch that probably costs five times more than his rent, and his chiselled mature features doesn’t hurt one bit.

“If it’s true,” the man says, and Lavi vaguely recognises a hint of a European accent behind his words. “It is true, is it not?”

Lavi sucks on the bitter tar and nicotine of his smoke because he doesn’t want to say anything.

“Tell me about her.”

Just for a second, Lavi very nearly does so. Although he has told Allen bits and pieces over the years, he certainly hasn’t told anyone _everything_ —like how he still trips over the person he once was in high school, deluded in a love that wasn’t returned. “…I don’t want to talk about it.”

The older man looks at him calmly, takes a mouth of beer, and swallows. “I can help you…forget,” he offers, and it’s very clear exactly _what_ he’s offering.

Lavi pauses, cigarette just touching his lips. “You thought I was straight.”

The man shrugs, looking not too concerned. “You’d still agree.”

“Doubt it,” Lavi smiles, just slightly. “And no thanks. It’s not about that though—I’m fine both ways, but well,” he shrugs. “Forgetting?” he says with a wry tone. “It wouldn’t work.”

“Maybe you just haven’t tried me,” the man smirks. “But if you’d prefer, you can moan their name all you want. Get it out of your system. I’m not picky.”

“Is that what you did for that guy?” Lavi asks curiously at the causal invitation.

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Baggage-laden sex,” Lavi raises his eyebrow. “What’s in it for you?”

The man grins, letting loose a slow trail of white smoke from his lips. “I don’t like clingy partners.”

Lavi drinks a slow couple of mouthfuls, leaning his cheek on his palm lazily. The other just sits languidly, taking more hits out of his cigarette. He doesn’t seem very bothered by any kind of reaction that Lavi might give—he’s just waiting patiently, enjoying the quiet buzz of the bar.

The man _does_ have a very nice physique.

Lavi finishes the beer at his own time before hopping off the stool to stretch. “Your place or mine?”


	5. Four

“Alma Karma, at your service.”

“Lenalee Lee, at yours.”

Alma grins, gripping the petite Chinese girl’s hand firmly. “I feel like I’m qualified to say I’ve been waiting for this moment for years.”

He had been surprised when he received a call from someone Kanda swore he would never meet requesting that they make acquaintance at her work place. Truthfully he had been a little flattered that Lenalee knew of his existence—it meant that Kanda had talked about him to the girl at _some_ point.

“I can’t say that I have, but,” Lenalee smiles. “I have been pretty curious who could have the honour of being Kanda’s best friend.”

She holds their handshake for a second more before releasing it, taking a proper glance at the older male. Alma somehow does and doesn’t fit the image she always had when Kanda complains about the other—he looks decent with a playful air, nothing like the “scheming bastard” she’d been told about. Decked in a casual buttoned shirt and grey washed jeans, he looks every bit _normal_. Kanda is such a liar.

“It makes me blush when you say it out loud,” Alma teases, walking after Lenalee who beckons him down a corridor.

Alma hasn’t been to a research laboratory before—he’s never really enjoyed science in school which he took till high school. All his needed skills are honed at his uncle’s restaurant, which is basically what he sees on a daily basis growing up. He had been expecting brains and mice and god knows what weird high tech equipment whatever brain research facilities have—and is truthfully disappointed at the rather normal office Lenalee works in. People peer over computers in the rooms when he sneak peeks along the way down the carpeted corridor.

Lenalee stops at a door with a label _Testing Room 1_ , swinging it open to gesture him inside. All Alma sees are a table and two chairs. He blinks.

“Take a seat.”

He does so, shifting as comfortable as he can. Lenalee disappears abruptly and comes back seconds later with two cups of steaming hot tea.

“So,” Alma begins after he accepts the offered drink with a thanks. “To what do I owe this pleasure to?” he asks. “Must be something important if you specially asked Tiedoll for my number. Not that I’m complaining if it’s a beautiful girl like you,” he winks.

Lenalee chuckles slightly, shaking her head. “You’ve probably guessed it, but it’s about Kanda.”

“What about Yuu?”

“Well,” she looks at him cautiously. “Are you aware of someone called Lavi?”

Alma closes his parted mouth. He is honestly impressed at her straightforwardness. “…I could be,” he answers eventually. “Why?”

Lenalee regards him carefully before speaking. “Does Kanda tell you everything?”

“Maybe?” he frowns. “He might have a secret kink I don’t know about, but sure, I think he tells me most things.”

“So then, you know something happened between Kanda and Lavi, yes?”

“I suppose,” he replies, not wanting to let on any more than he wants to.

“Kanda told me it was a work related issue,” Lenalee quirks a smile. “But he’s such a bad liar. When he lies, he looks to the right and the muscle here,” she taps below her jaw, “it twitches. You know it too, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Alma smirks.

“Obviously whatever between him and Lavi is a lot more than a work disagreement and I don’t need to know the details,” she continues. “But,” she exhales, looking intent. “But, I know the…signs. How long has this been going on?”

“…Long enough,” Alma says carefully as if trying to judge if she really knows what she is talking about.

“Since before I met him?” Lenalee questions, but she doesn’t press when he is slow to reply. “When we were in France, sometimes, he’d look a little bothered…a similar kind of bothered, but never to this extent. I know you’re not at liberty to tell me much, but...Lavi…is this his fault?”

“Err…” Alma scratches his nose. “Honestly, I have no idea. Kind of, but not really? Like, I don’t think he did anything in particular but it’s just…him?” he says with a skeptical tone. “I suppose?”

“…Okay,” she blinks. “On Kanda’s side then, is it…serious?”

“I…I would probably say so,” Alma concedes.

“And you understand what he has?” she asks warily.

“Mostly.”

“He’s not clinically diagnosed, is he?”

“You think?”

“No,” she answered her own question without hesitance. She bit her lip after. “Self-diagnosis is dangerous,” she says, measured.

“I know it is, Miss Lee,” Alma smiles, but there isn’t much cheer in it. “But I did a shit ton of research to help Yuu deal with it, because it _happens_. I’d like to think I at least understand what _Yuu’s_ going through, never mind whatever fancy names doctors like to call it. And Yuu…was coping, until. Until, well,” he sighed, tapping his fingers on the table. “If you’ve figured out most of it, you can probably guess the rest.”

Lenalee nods slowly. “Is it psychosomatic? Or genetic?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re the expert, you tell me.”

“I’m a neuropsychologist, not a neuropsychiatrist.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I investigate and conduct experiments. I don’t treat patients,” she answers. “Besides, my phD has nothing to do with any neuropsychiatric disorders.”

“Oh,” he blinks. “Well. I just know _what_ happens, not _why_ it happens. And I don’t know anything about Yuu’s biological parents—except they’ve must’ve been real knockouts with the way Yuu turned out.”

Lenalee stifles a giggle as Alma grins at his own joke.

 “…Does Lavi know?” she questions after, slightly hesitant.

“I doubt it,” he replies, frowning. “Shouldn’t you ask your boyfriend? He’s the redhead’s friend, isn’t he?”

Lenalee blushes, just a tiny bit. “Allen isn’t my boyfriend,” she corrects, to which Alma just smiles without a word. “I’m not really sure if he knows anything about it,” she confides. “We didn’t talk about it and I don’t want to say anything if he doesn’t.”

Alma nods, and they fall into silence. He takes the chance to drink his tea—now slightly cooled. The warm liquid swirls in his mouth before he swallows it down, watching the girl across with a small growing fondness. “I kind of see why Yuu likes you.”

She grins. “I’m probably the best thing that happened to him in France,” she teases. “He was the best thing that happened to me in France,” she says after, voice soft. “I just had to know if he had someone with him in this,” she admits. “That’s why I asked Mr Tiedoll about you. You won’t tell Kanda about this, will you?”

“You don’t have to worry,” he smiles amicably. “Yuu’s got me. We’ll deal with it, like we always have.”

“If there’s anything I can do to help…”

“To be honest, the only thing that can help Yuu is himself,” he says with a sigh. “But yeah, you can probably guess how that’s going. We’re working on it. Slowly.”

“I’m glad to know,” Lenalee says sincerely.

“You know,” Alma speaks up after a lag of conversation. “You’re a lot hotter than I imagined.” At her raised amused eyebrow, he continues. “I’m _not_ hitting on you; I’ve heard horror stories about your older brother and don’t take this the wrong way—I’m not racist, I mean, come on, I’m ethnic as you are, but,” he looks at her. “I don’t dig Asian chicks. You’re totally safe from me.”

The raised eyebrow goes higher. “…Then what about Kanda?”

Alma barks a loud laugh, nearly choking on his saliva. “I really like you, Miss Lee. We should meet up again sometime. You tell me more about the stupid shit Yuu did in college and I’ll keep you updated about Yuu’s progress.”

“That’s a fair trade,” Lenalee agrees, smiling. “But you’ll have to meet me here under the guise of doing one of my experiments again like today. My brother will…um…it won’t end well for you if he finds out we had coffee or something,” she sighs eventually. “To make it worth your time…what do you say to a brain scan?”

“Now?”

“If you can spare a couple of hours,” she says. “You get paid for your time.”

“Really? How much?”

“About ten pounds an hour.”

“What’s the catch?” Alma squints suspiciously.

“Nothing,” she laughs. “It’s just a simple experiment you do while I run the MRI scanner. I promise I won’t drug you and cut your brain open.”

“Then, hell yeah.”

* * *

 

“Fuck, can you not,” Kanda grinds out, glaring at the person seated way too casually across his desk.

“Does your father know you say such dirty words in front of your client?” Tyki raises an eyebrow, but he does flip the cigarette box close, pocketing it back into his pants.

“He’s not my fucking dad,” Kanda retorts. “And why the hell are you here? Where’s the other guy? Or woman?”

“I missed your pretty face, Kanda, I just had to see you,” the older man teases, voice in a drawl. “I’m a representative of Noah’s Ark. Why can’t I be here?”

“Because you suck at this shit,” the half-Japanese scowls. “Do you even know what you’re buying?” he narrows his eyes. “Or even how much you’re paying?”

“Err…” Tyki coughs. “Do I need to?” he asks eventually.

The flat stare Kanda gives him says everything that the other can’t be bothered to say. Truthfully, he does care very little about the art pieces Sheryl or Lulubell gets—it just so happens that both his siblings are big on art collecting, and he sometimes gets put to paperwork duty when the other two are out of the country. Noah’s Ark has been a client of Eden’s Art for _years_ ; he’s quite confident that the prices he signs are reasonable, unlike the numerous times Kanda has threatened to swindle him if he doesn’t at least fucking read through the summary slips.

He looks over at Kanda again, hair short at the nape, such a strange sight even though he’s only ever seen the other with his gorgeously long hair once, many years ago. It still makes him whistle at the regret, but, he’s not sentimental enough to ask why. Today, Kanda sits at his desk in his office every bit the professional office worker except for his language, unlike the college freshman he picked up at a bar in France.

“Why the fuck are you staring at me? Quit doing it—it’s fucking creepy.”

Tyki rolls his eyes and smirks. “If you won’t let me smoke, _babe_ , I have to distract myself from this suffocating silence somehow.”

“Don’t call me that,” Kanda immediately snaps, annoyed. “The fucking asshole is late. Again,” he mutters under his breath after.

Tyki hums patronisingly because the clock just reads 10: 01 am, but he shifts in boredom, crossing and uncrossing his legs about ten minutes later when all he’s treated to is pointed silence and Kanda’s irritancy at the lawyer who is eleven minutes late. 

“I’ll kill you if you light one,” Kanda shoots him a glare when his hand itches to his pocket.

“Can’t I just pay you the smoking fine?” Tyki grumbles. “You smoked when we fucked.” The dark look intensifies further, and Tyki sighs, adjusting his collar. “You keep acting like I am the worst sex you ever had which I know isn’t true,” he smirks. “Or it because of La—“

He doesn’t get to taunt Kanda, because suddenly the office door slams open with a bang, a redhead collapsing against the wooden structure. He pants heavily, face flushed from the obvious haste to reach his destination.

“I am so sorry—fuck, I—I didn’t hear about the tube strike and I—…” Lavi stops dead still the moment he sets eyes on someone very familiar.

He stands gaping at the office doorway, eye wide in shock.

“Mr Kanda,” the secretary appears behind him, looking harried.  “I tried to make him wait till I called for you but he insisted—“

Even though Kanda’s steeled himself for this over the weekend, but he still finds himself staring at the wall instead of at Lavi. Seeing that red hair is always such a squeeze of the throat—it twists his gut to something sour, especially after those echoing words ringing constantly in his head.

 _I don’t know what the_ fuck _is wrong with you._

_Can you not run away from this, like you always do?_

“Doesn’t matter,” he grinds out, waving her away to which she nods and leave. “Are you going to waste more time or what?” he glares at Lavi, who’s still stuck frozen at the door.

“Y-yeah,” the redhead blinks rapidly, staring at the older man sitting languidly in one of the chairs in a business suit similar to something he saw last week. “I mean, no,” he corrects hastily, stumbling into the remaining empty chair. “No. I’m sorry I’m late. Really, I didn’t—“

“Whatever,” Kanda snaps, cutting him off coldly. “This is Mikk. He’s the representative for Noah’s Ark. The folders are here,” he slides two towards Lavi. “Start.”

“The name’s Tyki,” Tyki grins, revealing a full set of gleaming teeth as he holds out his hand for a handshake. “I don’t believe I had the pleasure of knowing yours.”

When Lavi woke up on Saturday morning feeling buzzed and sore, he had only registered the faint scent of cigarette smoke on his sheets before he slept in till the afternoon, alone. They didn’t exchange names or numbers, something he was perfectly agreeable to—until now.

“Lavi,” Lavi says warily, gripping the hand.

“…Lavi,” Tyki repeats, rolling the name off his tongue. A glint of recognition shines in those golden eyes, and a smirk slips into the edges of his lips. He glances at Kanda ever so slightly. “You should have told me,” he murmurs, eyes glinting. “ _Yuu_.”

Lavi freezes, because he had…he had whispered the name countless times when they—

“I said don’t call me that,” Kanda hisses at Tyki, and the look in his eyes sends a clear message that if he says a _single_ word, his death is the only thing he will know after. “Both of you are wasting my fucking time. Are you going to sign the damn thing or not?”

“So impatient,” Tyki shakes his head, amused. The older man leans on his palm, ever so calmly. “So, _Lavi_ ,” he drawls the name with great delight. “What do you have for me?”

* * *

 

They surprisingly end on schedule, but that’s probably because Tyki doesn’t really care about the clauses and no refund policy—whatever. Noah’s Ark has been perfectly happy with their past procedures, and he’s pretty sure that Kanda will take it in him to drill to him if something in the contract changes.

He lets the redhead drone on about the terms and conditions without even looking at the papers—quite creepy—and secretly watches the duo avoid all eye contact, even when they push papers to each other.

The situation makes him want to laugh, long and hard. He doesn’t know what kind of luck this is; providing pity sex for _both_ of the occupants in the room at different times. It had been a surprise when he walked into Eden’s Art three years after that one night stand, but he and Kanda had been quick to settle into some sort of an odd vague platonic relationship in which Kanda got annoyed with him eleven out of ten times. They only met when he was on paperwork duty, and they never really spoke about what they did in France except for his occasional tease when he wanted to rile the half-Japanese up—he only knew of the name ‘Lavi’, and, he doesn’t have a habit of being invested in other people’s business.

And now, _Lavi_ , Tyki muses inwardly. He hadn’t thought much of the name ‘Yuu’ last week, but of course, who else, but _Kanda Yuu_?

“So, Kanda,” he grins when he’s shoved the completed paperwork. “Have lunch with me.”

“I’m busy,” Kanda snaps immediately, stacking the other folders in some sort of show.

“Pity. Dinner?”

“Busy.”

“Sex?”

Kanda sours and shoots him a glare. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

“I was just joking, _babe_.”

“Don’t. Call. Me. That,” Kanda grinds out word by word.

“Lavi,” Tyki glances ever so casually towards the redhead, who’s looking at them both with an indescribable stare. “Since Kanda is such a wet towel, how about you join me for coffee?”

Just as Lavi opens his mouth to answer, Kanda interrupts.

“Mikk. A word.”

The demand is a very clear order for Lavi to leave them alone, and the redhead merely clenches his jaw and turns on his heel, leaving the room without a moment’s hesitation. No pleasantries. Tyki observes the behaviour curiously, but doesn’t get to think too much about it when Kanda grabs him by the collar and yanks him down to eye level.

“If you say a fucking word to him—” Kanda threatens, voice in a low growl.

“Of how you let me fuck you crying his name so sweetly?” Tyki smirks, wincing when the grip tightens. “Do you still let people fuck—“

“Are you going to shut up or do you want me to punch you?” Kanda seethes.

“A kiss,” Tyki says instead, eyes amused. “Kiss me, and I won’t tell.”

Kanda’s death glare twists into an incredulous frown. “…Are you that desperate?”

Tyki huffs and rolls his eyes _passionately_.

“Get out,” Kanda spits eventually, shoving the other away with a palm. “And close the fucking door behind you.”

The older man straightens his suit jacket and lets himself out of the office, scoffing at the audacity of that ludicrous question. He swings the door close but doesn’t pull it in to shut it completely, whistling while he strides away as he hears the door slam shut seconds later. He winks to the secretary who smiles at him, and stops at the lifts where one redhead stands, facial expression hard.

They don’t say anything as they go to the ground floor—Lavi isn’t anything like that casual, easy going guy he smoked a pack of cigarettes with in the other’s room, now, the redhead is cold, stony and silent, much like…Kanda, Tyki supposes. How ironic.

It’s only when they’re out of the building that Lavi turns on him.

“What. The. Fuck,” Lavi’s voice is flat. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Tyki,” he answers with a smile.

“No. How—who—did you—did you know who the fuck I was last week? Because fuck, this is a _sick_ game you’re playing, _Mikk_ ,” Lavi hisses.

“As amusing as this is, I for one, could not have conjured such fate,” Tyki says, shrugging. “ _Que será será, meu amigo._ ”

“I-I said his _name_! How could you not have recognised it?” Lavi demands. “Fuck, I can’t believe you know him and you still—you still—“

“Everyone calls him by his last name except his father,” Tyki replies calmly. “If I had known your name,” he shrugs. “I probably wouldn’t have offered.”

Lavi breathes in deeply. “…Are you going to tell him?”

Tyki blinks. “You and him,” he says slowly. “Are two peas in a pod.”

“What do you mean?”

Tyki only smirks, and the flurry of expressions that flash across the redhead’s face is nothing compared to the emptiness of his tone after. Lavi’s mouth feels stuck.

It’s incomprehensible. He hadn’t—he hadn’t wanted to remember but he could never forget—so for once, he let a gorgeous man take the place of his past fantasies, or maybe, a memory of that night when he was so wasted he couldn’t even recognise that it was Kanda, hot breath and heated skin sliding right against his.

If only Kanda had loved him, he would’ve done _anything_ for the other. But Kanda hadn’t, and he was alone for seven years, flitting between people who never made him whole. Just _once_ , he wanted a glimpse of what it could have been—which was buried to the back of his mind after, tasted and done, until just a few days later.

And now, whenever he looks at this man, he remembers what he had done; closed eyes and desperate kisses pretending the other was someone else.

He’s over Kanda, isn’t he?

_Isn’t he?_

“You slept with Yuu,” he murmurs, almost inaudible.

“His very first,” Tyki nods. “Are you going to hit me?” he grins darkly.

Lavi swallows minutely, the tension in his jaw hardening as silent seconds pass. “No,” he spits out eventually. “Yuu can…he can fuck whoever he wants. I don’t care.”

“Oh?” Tyki tilts his head. “You won’t care if he let me fuck him because of you?”

Lavi stares.

“Have a good day, Lavi,” Tyki chuckles, saluting him with two fingers as he turns to leave.

He barely takes two steps when Lavi’s fingers grab his arm.

“We’re getting that coffee.”

* * *

 

Tyki drinks a mouthful of his black coffee at _Flat White_ , content at the strong bitter taste settling at the base of his tongue. Perhaps he shouldn’t do this—he’s known Kanda for a very long time and this is nothing short of betrayal, but, they aren’t exactly friends. Loyalty can’t be expected of him.

Besides, Kanda didn’t give him that kiss.

“Explain.”

Tyki sips another mouthful slowly, a stark contrast to the agitated redhead across him. “Why don’t you tell me about Kanda first?”

“Why?”

The older man shrugs very vaguely, blowing at his coffee.

Lavi swallows, frustrated. “I knew Yuu in high school,” he starts, clipped. “We…fell out before graduation. I never saw him after, until two weeks ago.”

“Coincidence?”

“You could say that.”

“So what’s stopping you?” Tyki asks. “He’s there in his boring old office. Not much of a chase, I’d say.”

“We’re not…talking,” Lavi says eventually earning a raised eyebrow. “It’s complicated.”

“I’m sure,” Tyki snorts. “I met him in France.”

“France?”

“He was in college,” he relates, watching the unreadable expression of the other. “He was drinking at a bar, very much like you,” he grins. “With the most pathetic look I’ve ever seen.”

The air gets stuck in Lavi’s throat as realization dawns. “He…he was the one you…”

“Yes.”

“And…he…it was about… _me_?” Lavi whispers, very faintly. “…Why?”

“Well. Why did you?”

“Because I—“ he stops, biting his bottom lip hard. “I…fuck, I…just…”

“You really shouldn’t have to think that hard,” Tyki says very amusedly, finishing up his coffee.

He really doesn’t, but, he can’t…he can’t say it. He can’t just say he still cares about someone who doesn’t give a shit about him, not after yelling that he doesn’t. He can’t just say that he’s thought of Kanda at least once every day for the past seven years, not when he’s told himself he hasn’t— _he hasn’t, he hasn’t, he has_ —he can’t just say that he still wants Kanda, not when he can’t even stand in the same room with the other without everything going to hell.

He can’t just say he’s still in love with Kanda to the point that the hurting becomes normal, not when he knows it’s so, so _pathetic_.

He doesn’t love Kanda anymore.

Not anymore.

“It doesn’t matter what I…” he says, voice hoarse. “Yuu hates me.”

Tyki hums. “I wouldn’t think so.”

“I’ve done everything. I’ve tried talking to him,” he continues, shaking his head. “He doesn’t even want to look at me. He doesn’t even—“ he swallows, clearly upset. “Seven years. _Seven fucking years_ and he—“

“You might want to calm down,” Tyki advises, tapping the table.

Lavi pauses in mid-sentence, staring stone still at the table when he realises other people are looking at him from his raised voice. “…Forget it,” he mutters, standing up. “There’s no fucking point to this. There never has been.”

“Lavi,” Tyki says, cheek against his palm. “Just kiss him.”

“…Are you crazy?”

Tyki shrugs vaguely as he stands up, brushing his jacket absentmindedly. “What have you got to lose?”

* * *

 

Kanda slides down, back against his office door.

He’s just so tired of everything, with coincidences and bad situations and his fucking stupid life. But at least, he got through today, didn’t he? He knocks his head against the hard door, not even flinching at the pain filtering through his skull at the impact.

 _Fucking stupid choices made in college_ , he grumbles, fingers twisting into his short hair.

How sick was it that he had slept with one moaning the name of the other?

Fuck, he didn’t want to think about it. Not about that pitiful heart pain, that pathetic, desperate way he—

No. No. No. No.

No. No.

_His body was burning up. He breathed out ever so slowly, eyes squeezed tighter when a wet mouth sucked fervently at his hipbone, tongue curling hot his skin. He swallowed a groan as those lips explored further upwards, rubbing over his nipple in the most teasing manner possible. His fingers clenched, but he couldn’t move his hands from where they were forced down beside his head._

_“Ah-h…L-lavi,” he moaned, breaths turning out uneven as the tongue moved higher to suck on his neck._

_He could feel a smirk pressed against his throat and he kept his eyes shut as hard as he could, ignoring the stench of cigarette smoke and slight stubble brushing against his skin. He could see the red of Lavi’s hair amidst the darkness. He could smell old books and ink, a scent that always followed Lavi around, and a hint of soft cotton. He could hear Lavi whisper his name, taking extra careful to pronounce all two syllables, the curl of his accent warming it up._

_It was Lavi touching him in all places, board palm slipping down the front of his boxers to grasp his hardening cock, causing him to buck forwards blindly. A slow stroke began from the base to the leaking tip, a finger teasing the slit in circles after._

_He choked, hips snapping at the assault of sensation flooding his senses. He tried to breathe, but his breath stuttered when his cock was engulfed in a deep wet heat, a vague vibration thrumming through his veins as the mouth on him groaned. He tried to bite his mouth shut but a whimper tore through, and the moment fingers pressed against his perineum, he gasped loudly, head thrown back._

_“Oh fuck, Lavi—“_

He clamps his hand tight over his mouth as he lurches forward in reflex, trembling hard.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.


	6. Five

  _“So, uh, doyouwanttocatchamoviewithme?”_

_Kanda sends him a kind of confused squinting glance that doesn’t ease the agony one bit. Lavi feels his tongue curl uncomfortably in his nervousness—which is ridiculous, because his heart is beating so fast like he’s going into cardiac arrest. Asking your best friend on a date isn’t supposed to be that of a big deal, is it? Moreover Kanda kind of maybe said he liked him too, so, why is he flustered so hard?_

_Maybe because nothing had happened since that sufficiently awkward return confession day in which while he was unconsciously staring at Kanda’s mouth, the other had abruptly stood up so fast that the table slammed into his stomach, stalking away with a muttered complaint for food._

_“If you’re free, that is. Um, sometime after school?” Lavi babbles, complexion turning pinker. “Today, tomorrow, anytime in the week, whenever you like, or don’t like, it’s totally cool. So. Uh.”_

_Kanda clicks his tongue in annoyance. “I didn’t understand a damn thing. Get to the point.”_

_Lavi breathes out slowly, lips pursed. “Will you,” he says eventually, staring hard. “Go on a date with me.”_

_It ends up being more of a demand than a question, but Lavi can’t think about that when he watches the realization of what he’s asking sink into Kanda’s face. The half-Japanese takes a second to blink before a warm flush arises to the tips of his ears, and his eyes start to track saccadic patterns everywhere but on Lavi._

_“…W-what?”_

_“I’m asking you on a date,” Lavi repeats, this time more confidently, but his tone still wavers a little. “To the movies. After school. And maybe…dinner?” After a minute of silence, he swallows, unsure. “Uh. Please?”_

_Kanda’s lips part for a moment before it closes, and then it opens again. He ends up saying nothing, but a dark blush is prominent on his pale skin._

_Lavi twists his fingers, jittering with restlessness because he knows Kanda is well aware of this_ thing _between them—this irresistible suspense that blurs the lines between them as friends or something more. Knowing that Kanda possibly felt the same way makes him want more than he ever let himself daydream before; they could be going on dates, holding hands, making out…_

_He could be Kanda’s first kiss, Lavi realises, breath stuttering. He could—_

“—idiot!”

Lavi yelps when his forehead collides with the surface of his table painfully, hands immediately clutching the unforgiving hand pressing the back of his head down. “Ow— _fuck_ —“

His uncle stands unimpressed behind him, grinding his knuckles to the back of his skull. “Listen to me when I’m talking to you, boy!”

“I was listening!” Lavi whines, gripping the table to ease the sore pain. “Fuck, that _really_ hurt.”

“Language,” Bookman reprimands, smacking the back of his head to which another yelp was released. “Repeat what I told you.”

Lavi darts a glance towards the other attorneys in the office for any kind of help, but everyone else cough quietly to themselves, eyes planted on their computer screens. He can get that his uncle (the big boss) is kind of intimidating even with his short stature and dark-ass eye bags—okay, well, he generally also doesn’t piss his elder off too badly. Most of the time.

“What’s gotten into you lately?” Bookman frowns, rapping the table for his attention.

“Huh?”

“You’re out of it,” the older states flatly. “Have you looked through the files I sent you in the morning?”

“Of course,” Lavi scoffs. “What do you take me for; a good for nothing slacker? I got all the clauses down, you don’t have to keep asking—“

Bookman looks at him in a way that he knows he’s saying the wrong thing.

“…but…you didn’t send me anything,” Lavi grumbles.

“Lavi,” Bookman starts, this time with a hint of concern underneath that hard stare.

“Nothing!” the redhead huffs immediately, much too fast for an actual _nothing_. “Seriously, gramps, it’s nothing. Anyway, what did you want? Don’t you have a meeting to get to in a minute or something?”

The elder looks obviously displeased, but he sighs. “We’re having dinner with Froi tonight at _The Kitchen Table_. Whatever appointments you have, end it by six. We’re leaving at six thirty. Understand?”

Tiedoll? “Why the fancy shmancy dinner?” Lavi asks. “Or rather, why do you want me there?”

“I don’t,” Bookman says easily, shrugging. “Froi seems to take a liking to you. I suppose you’re not all that useless after all, stupid boy.”

“Hey—“

“Six. Sharp,” Bookman states as final parting before he turns heel and walks off to the corridor of their office, figure disappearing out of sight.

* * *

 _The Kitchen Table_ is a reputable fine dining experience consisting of fourteen unique courses in a back kitchen of a restaurant near Soho. It is something that Lavi might splurge on a special occasion—except, he doesn’t have anyone to go with. Allen is definitely the last choice on his list despite how fond he is of the little guy, because the said junior might just eat himself into bankruptcy. The good food is the only reason that keeps him standing beside his uncle obediently, and also because the elder knew he had no plans for the night. He has nothing against Tiedoll, but any thoughts relating to _Eden’s Art_ makes him feel out of place. He still doesn’t know what to do about _anything_ —not about Mikk’s words, not about the recurring memories of Kanda, not about the constant frustration that digs inside whenever his thoughts slip to the half-Japanese.

He doesn’t understand anything. He doesn’t know if he can trust that Mikk didn’t lie about it all. He doesn’t know what to believe anymore. He doesn’t know what to feel. What to think. He thinks about Kanda under Mikk, calling his name. He thinks about how it could have been Kanda under _him_ , calling his name. He thinks about them holding hands, sharing jokes, confiding secrets. He thinks about the fantasies he’s played to himself since the first time he saw Kanda in that crowded hall on the first day of high school.

But all of it doesn’t change the fact that Kanda and he are on opposite sides of a widening chiasm.

“Manners, boy,” Bookman’s order snaps him back into reality. “It’s been a while, Froi.”

Fuck, he needs to stop thinking about Kanda. It’s a fucking vicious cycle that led him to clubs, really bad hangovers and rough sex. He has a meeting tomorrow at nine. Bookman will scorch his ass so hard if he turns up late or less than proper. He cannot do this today. Maybe tomorrow.

“Indeed,” Tiedoll smiles warmly, clasping Bookman on the shoulder when he arrives near enough.

“Good evening, sir,” Lavi says politely, trying to arrange his smile to look less forced, but it completely fails when a step behind the older man catches his attention. “…Yuu.”

Their split-second long eye contact is _awkward_ to the point where even Lavi’s head is empty save for a string of curses that repeat over and over for his fucking _luck_. Of course Tiedoll would bring his son—it is such a given that Lavi wants to smack himself for not realising earlier.

“Good evening,” Tiedoll greets amicably, smiling. “Yuu,” he elbows his charge, sending the other a look.

“Evening,” Kanda grits out, but he’s mostly looking at Bookman who nods at him.

“Let’s enter, shall we? I’ve got a table for us,” Tiedoll continues smoothly when he’s satisfied by Kanda’s response. “I’m sure you two must be starving.”

On the contrary, Lavi doesn’t feel like eating anymore—he follows Tiedoll closely because he doesn’t want to get caught lingering next to Kanda, ignoring the low sentences of pleasantries spoken by his uncle to the other. How long has his uncle known Kanda for? Enough of the years that he had spent wondering? Or did Kanda himself ever knew that Bookman is his uncle? Did Kanda know where he was, all these years, and stayed hidden because of some fucking reason he never understood?

He smiles and nods when Tiedoll says something to him, not even realising that he takes the seat next to the older at a counter surrounding a metal kitchen table. It matters because when Bookman and Kanda appear behind them a second later, Bookman takes the seat on the farthest left, leaving the only place for Kanda to settle is beside him.

Their elbows knock and they both flinch, shifting uncomfortably. Thankfully, or not thankfully, the older men start a conversation across the table, leaving both of them to stare forwards in silence, pretending to be interested in the décor. There is no menu since it’s a set of courses, and Lavi squints at the chalkboard at the back detailing their dinner list. He reads the first line and reads it again because though he can see it, the words don’t register.

Kanda is tugging at his collar of his shirt underneath his suit, flicking open one button when the other apparently decides it’s too stifling. Lavi is hyperaware of the breaths that Kanda takes, not obscured by the luck that his blind side is towards Tiedoll’s. Such fucking luck.

The half-Japanese has on a hard expression but it isn’t entirely a scowl. It’s more blank than anything, with maximum discomfort and a hint to desperately escape. Kanda purses his lips tightly as he takes small controlled breaths, and Lavi watches the movement at the corner of his eye unconsciously.

Kanda’s lips are slightly chapped but the dryness of it gets moist when his tongue peaks out slightly to wet them. Lavi notices the vague press of Kanda’s teeth on his bottom lip before it disappears as Kanda purses his lips again.

Lavi bites his own bottom lip. He remembers doing the same back then, wondering what Kanda would taste like. All he could remember was alcohol and wet heat from that one night, but seven years ago he imagined that Kanda would be warm and sweet, no matter his personality. He would’ve enjoyed teaching Kanda how to kiss—how to open his mouth and let him invade, curl their tongues together, kiss him beyond breathless.

Or did he now kiss like Mikk, hard and domineering?

Lavi shifts in his seat and jerks straight up, eye wide when he realises where his thoughts are trailing to. He nearly tumbles when he scoots back the high chair in haste.

“I. I need the restroom. Excuse me,” he bites out quickly and literally flees to the bathroom.

He turns the tap on cold and splashes his face, smacking his cheeks. His reflection in the mirror shows him how he gets his eyepatch damp and also how the strands of his fringe stick to his temple. He breathes out hard.

“Not anymore,” he says to himself firmly. “Not anymore. Not anymore.”

So what if Kanda is still the most beautiful person he’s ever seen? Kanda isn’t the same person he fell in love with. Time changes people. Especially seven years. He isn’t the same person anymore either.

He’s not still in love with Kanda.

He’s in love with the idea of Kanda.

The idea.

Just the idea.

“Not anymore,” he repeats it like a chant, pushing the image of Kanda away. “It’s just a dinner. You won’t run from something as stupid as this.”

He can’t run, not when he’s yelled the same thing at Kanda two weeks ago. He can sit down, play nice, eat dinner. He can—

“Lavi.”

He startles badly, crashing into the sink at the sound of his name. Bookman stands by the doorway, frowning.

“What’s going on?” Bookman demands flatly.

“Uh,” Lavi coughs, head blank.

“Don’t lie to me, boy,” his uncle presses, looking intent.

Lavi rubs the back of his neck, looking away. He doesn’t know how his uncle assumes something is off with him—he’s not that bad of a pretender, but, there’s probably a reason why Bookman is a top notch associate, starting with his attention and eye for details.

“Lavi,” Bookman’s voice borders on a threat, and Lavi swallows.

“…Personal…issues,” he admits, voice small. “I’m just,” he looks at his feet. “Feeling a bit messed up.”

He hears the older sigh and come forward. A hand jabs at the back of his nape and he jumps. “Ow! Gramps!”

“Go home,” Bookman tells him. “Clear your head. Sort it out. Do you understand me? I don’t want you like this tomorrow.”

“It’s not as simple as just ‘sort it out’,” Lavi argues hotly. “I can’t just… _fix_ it, it’s not like a math problem— “

Bookman eyes him. “You can’t or you _won’t_?”

Lavi makes a frustrated noise. “Can’t! I…I’ve _tried,_ okay? Nothing worked! I’ve tried everything, gramps, _everything_ —“

“Try again.”

“You don’t understand—“

“Try again,” Bookman repeats. “Fail again. Fail better.”

“Gramps,” Lavi groans. “You might as well have said ‘Do or do not; there is no try.’”

“If you know it yourself, idiot, then do it,” Bookman rolls his eyes.

“And I’m telling you it’s not that simple! It’s…it’s _complicated_ , okay? It’s—“

“It’s about Froi’s son, isn’t it?” the older says quietly, and the abrupt flinch says everything. “Go home, Lavi,” he says eventually.

“…Okay,” Lavi whispers.

* * *

“Yuu? Something wrong?” Tiedoll sips from his glass of champagne, looking over to the younger.

Kanda unclenches his hands, inwardly wincing at the marks left on his palms by his fingernails. He takes in a slow breath and tries to reply, but ends up choking slightly. In front of them duck is being grilled to succulent perfection, but his stomach doesn’t rumble in hunger. It just churns acid that threatens to slip up his gullet.

“Yuu?”

Kanda reaches for his glass of water but his fingers barely touch the surface when he knows that if he takes it, he’s going spill it from how hard his hand shakes.

“…Headache,” he forces out, closing his eyes in a show that he hopes Tiedoll believes it’s from pain and not from the urge to gag.

“You need to take better care of yourself, my boy,” Tiedoll begins concernedly. “You’ve been ill quite a bit recently. Do you require some medication?”

“I…I should go home,” Kanda spits out, easing the chair back.

“Of course, of course,” Tiedoll nods. “I’ll call a cab.”

“I can take the bus,” he says immediately, shaking his head.

It’s bad enough that he’s going to waste eighty pounds by ditching dinner, but there is no way he can sit next to Lavi for two or three hours. The close proximity is even worse than at _Abeno_ —he can literally feel Lavi’s _skin_. If he moves his hand a little he can grab Lavi’s _thigh_. Lavi’s hands will knock into his more times than he can count. It’s just not possible for him to sit through this; fuck if he is running away again, but he can’t get his anxiety under control.

“Yuu—“

“I’ll call you,” he mutters, hurrying out of the restaurant.

A cold gust of wind washes upon his face when he steps onto the street. He walks quickly, hands in his pockets and ignoring the slight bustle around the area. The Jubilee line is down which means that he has to walk to the bus stop situated at one of the quieter lanes away from the main road for his ride back. The walk gets increasingly more soothing as the streets go quieter, and when he finally reaches the bus stop, it’s just him and the white light of the shelter.

He takes the chance to lean against the advertisement board and clear his head.

How is it that one person can make him into such a _mess_? He doesn’t understand it. What is it about Lavi that he just can’t stop thinking about? What is it about Lavi that he’s so _stuck_ on?

Is it for Lavi to tell him that everything is okay? Is it for Lavi to forgive him for how he fucked them up, even though the last thing he ever wanted was to do that? Is it for Lavi to tell him that he hasn’t given up on him, that he’s still _important,_ still the center of Lavi’s world?

How naïve.

How pathetic.

How stupid that he still hates himself for this, even though he knew how it was going to be and yet he chose it anyway. He opens his eyes and stares straight ahead, hoping that the bus will come at some point.

He doesn’t expect Lavi to walk past, stopping to stare at the notice board with bus routes in thought.

_What the actual fuck._

He has nothing to say, and he can only wait for Lavi to hum to himself and nod, and then literally jerk in shock when the redhead notices the only other person at the bus stop.

For a few seconds they stare dumbly at each other before they simultaneously break eye contact, tension straining hard.

It would be even more awkward if one of them left knowing that both of them had to take the bus. The silence Kanda had been grateful for suddenly becomes the worst thing ever. He trains his gaze hard away towards the street, hoping that with enough denial, Lavi isn’t actually standing at the same bus stop as he is.

Fuck, is he going to take the same bus? He probably is, since Kanda knows how close by they live.

He can’t do this.

He’ll just get a cab for the sake of his sanity. He pushes himself off the advertisement board and stalks forward, determined to leave, fuck the awkward tension. Except he ever so slightly glances at Lavi at the corner of his eye when he passes by, and Lavi catches the line of sight.

Lavi also catches his wrist, tight and unforgiving.

Kanda flinches at the contact so hard that he nearly trips on his feet.

The redhead doesn’t say anything as he keeps the hold secure, stepping forward. Lavi’s eye tracks him steadily—searching his gaze even as he tries to look everywhere else, especially where Lavi is touching him, his board palms wrapping over his skin. He can feel an automatic flush rushing up his neck, warming his ears.

“Yuu,” Lavi starts, staring hard. “I…” he trails off, expression slowly turning from blank to a worried squint. “…Are you okay? You’re trembling.”

Kanda takes a step back in response, trying to loosen his wrist away. “N-none of your business,” he scowls, voice starting to shake and fuck, he’s going to have a panic attack because Lavi is _touching_ him.

How pathetic is that?

Fuck. Lavi isn’t letting go and Kanda feels himself struggling to breathe as the redhead steps even closer, frowning.

“This is so fucking screwed up,” Lavi murmurs.

Kanda stutters on a choked breath, gut twisting in full. Yes, it’s so fucking screwed up because of him. His fault. Of course, why would Lavi say anything different?

But his thoughts derail when Lavi suddenly yanks him forward and crashes his mouth upon his. Kanda jerks at the hard clack of teeth on teeth, but the redhead is unrelenting, ignoring the uncomfortable pain in their mouths. Lavi moulds their mouths together desperately, trying to find a way to break through. It doesn’t take much for him to do so, with a bit more aggressive force, sucking on Kanda’s bottom lip to seek entrance and invading the craven when his tongue probes through. Kanda is so warm beneath him, and he gets lost into trying to entangle their mouths as much as possible.

He bites on Kanda’s lip gently, drawing quick short breaths as he tries to kiss the other as hard as he can—except, Kanda isn’t responding.

He still has their lips touching when he looks into Kanda’s eyes, searching for anything that will tell him something.

Kanda blinks, long eyelashes fluttering.

“…Yuu?” he whispers softly, choked. “I still…l—“

Kanda shudders a breath as he stumbles backwards, eyes widening. He blinks rapidly, breaths rising and falling increasingly faster as he lifts a hand to cover his mouth, edging himself as far back as possible.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Oh god, _fuck_.

Lavi just…

Lavi just _kissed_ him.

He presses his hand harder against his mouth as he tries not to panic—except, knowing that he’s panicking only restricts his windpipe more. He can feel his stomach clenching so _hard_ , and a second later he doubles over choking down the gagging noises from his throat.

“Yuu? What’s happening?” Lavi stares at him, confused, and tries to reach for him but he presses himself back.

Kanda shakes a quivering breath and shakes his head vehemently, squeezing his eyes shut as he lurches forward at the force in his gut. He coughs in a disarraying series, ending off with another gag that hits particularly hard.

And Lavi is at the side watching _everything_.

The humiliation that sinks in is worse than anything else he’s ever felt.

This is exactly what he’s been afraid of—having a stupid pathetic reaction just because Lavi touched him, kissed him—how…how can he ever be with Lavi if he is always going to freak out every time Lavi got near? There is something so inherently wrong with him for being like this, so _fucked up_ , and Kanda doesn’t know why, he never has.

Kanda doesn’t know how he got to his knees but he crouches low pressing his trembling hands over his mouth, trying to breathe.

Lavi is watching him.

Lavi is watching.

 _Lavi_.

“Okay, uh,” Lavi crouches next to him, panicked. “Did you eat something bad?”

Kanda shakes his head vaguely, dry heaving into his hand. Fuck, this is _beyond_ pathetic, he thinks, keeping his eyes closed in denial. His stomach is ice cold as he feels another jab twisting into it and he gasps, futilely trying to draw air.

“Yuu? What’s happening?” Lavi demands, hand pressed on his shoulder.

One and two, Kanda tries to count, but the feel of Lavi’s fingers shudder another choked breath.

“Hey, you need to breathe,” the redhead starts to pat his back awkwardly. “Um, do you want a paper bag? A paper bag will help right? Does it? Fuck, I’ll just get a paper bag for you,” he babbles, unsure of what to do as Kanda curls tighter into a ball while his frame trembles violently. “I’m going to leave you for a minute to get one, okay? Just, sit here, I’ll be back.”

“Don’t,” Kanda gasps, desperately soft, and Lavi doesn’t hear it as he runs off into the distance.

Kanda chokes on another breath and blindly searches his pockets for his phone. Fuck, he’s going to die of asphyxiation if he can’t get himself to breathe soon. His phone clatters on the ground and it takes three tries before he can even ring the fucking speed dial, but Alma’s voice gives him the first breath that he can take.

“Yuu?”

“…A-alma,” he chokes out.

“Right. Five minutes, and I’m there,” Alma says immediately. “Fuck—ow—“ he complains as he crashes into something over at his side. “Okay, count with me, Yuu,” he instructs, breath quickening as his footsteps hurry. “One to twenty. Slowly. One.”

“…I-I…”

“One. Say one.”

“…I c-can’t—“

“One.”

“O-one.”

“Two. Come on, Yuu,” Alma says. “I’m nearly there.”

“…Two.”

“Great! Now three.”

“Three,” Kanda takes a deep breath. “….Four.”

They do eventually reach twenty but by then Kanda is too exhausted to panic about panicking. He sits on the ground and draws his knees up so that he can rest his forehead down.

“So…where are you exactly?” Alma asks. “I’m somewhere in Soho, closing in towards Goodge street station.”

“…Bus stop.”

“Which bus stop?” Alma rolls his eyes. “There’s like a bazillion around this area.”

“Three lanes down.”

“Down where?”

“The fucking tube station.”

“In which direction?” Alma groans. “ _Babe_. I’m your best friend, not a fucking GPS.”

“Don’t call me that, idiot.”

* * *

 Lavi’s sprint skids into a halt when sees Kanda in the arms of another man. He’s about ten meters away from the bus stop, crunched paper bag in hand. He pants, chest heaving as the taste in his mouth immediately sours without reason.

He recognises the other man as the same person he saw in _Eden’s Art_ , hands on Kanda’s hips holding the other close as he speaks seriously. Kanda has his back towards Lavi, occasionally shaking his head as he listens. Both of them are standing so close that personal space doesn’t seem to exist—and Lavi never knew there was _anyone_ who Kanda allowed it to happen without a grumble in some way.

 _He_ never got so close to Kanda without a grumble in some way.

Abruptly, the man’s line of sight flickers to his and the only indication of acknowledgement is a deeper frown in his eyebrows as he continues to speak to Kanda, pretending that Lavi isn’t standing there at all.

Lavi doesn’t know what to do. He had ran all the way back to the street of restaurants looking for a paper bag, but of course, why would a restaurant stock paper bags? After five failed tries, he eventually remembers that a Tesco is nearby. It takes him even longer to beg the cashier to let him take an empty paper bag off the stand of _Krispy Kreme_ donuts, all to come back to a picture of Kanda with someone else.

 _He_ was supposed to help Kanda with…whatever.

Lavi grips the paper bag so hard that he’s sure it’s crinkled beyond use now. _How_ was he even thinking of something like this—he just saw Kanda try to puke his liver out, and all he can think is that _he’s_ not the one holding Kanda?

Disgusting. He's the absolute worst.

The bus looms in the distance and Kanda’s boyfriend flags it down, slinging an arm around Kanda as he guides him up, ensuring that Kanda never has a chance to look back at Lavi.

While Kanda searches for his oyster card, the man digs out a small white card from his back pocket and tosses it casually out behind him. Their eyes meet again as the door closes, hard, unreadable stares, until Lavi can’t see them anymore when the bus takes off.

The empty street feels much colder than Lavi thinks it should.

Numbly, he walks forward to pick the card off the ground.

_The Lotus Chinese Restaurant  
_ _12 Gerrard Street W1D 5PR  
_ _020 7474 0870  
_ _www.thelotuscr.com_

* * *

 Alma doesn’t think he’s seen Kanda so shaken up other than that rather weird and enlightening session seven years ago. The half-Japanese is slumped on the floor of his bed room, suit jacket thrown somewhere and shirt half unbuttoned, curled in some strange fetal position. His face is darkly flushed, even his neck where the tint dips down his spine.

Alma doesn’t really understand how his best friend can look so embarrassed and miserable at the same time—it almost makes him want to punch a wall to regain some sort of semblance. He’s dealt with most (if not all) but Kanda’s issues, but this one is quite lost on him. He tells Kanda this quite honestly.

“So…are you happy or not happy that he kissed you?”

If possible, the blush get more prominent, but the scowl deepens.

“Both?” Alma hazards a guess with a confused hand wave. “You got to put this in words, Yuu.”

Kanda shakes his head.

“Yuu,” the other starts with a roll of his eyes. “If you want me to guess you have to roll with anything triggering I say,” he warns, and when the other’s mouth stays defiantly shut, he sighs. “Fine. I’ll say it: You _clearly_ still have some romantic attraction to Lavi.”

“I know I—“ Kanda snaps, but he shuts it right after the three words.

“Do you really? Alma prods. “Because you’ve been denying it since you let that that Portuguese guy fuck you and I didn’t want to tell you otherwise because maybe with enough time you’d start to believe it too, but obviously,” he raises an eyebrow. “That didn’t happen.”

Kanda keeps silent with his head bowed long enough that Alma reaches for his shoulder, but before he does so, the other abruptly shifts forward and pulls out the bottom drawer of his cabinet.

An orange scarf is tossed at him.

And then another.

“After I let Mikk fuck me,” Kanda says very quietly, hands resting on the open drawer. “I knew I…was never going to…stop…” the sentence breaks into a whisper.

He had wanted to forget so badly, but the next morning he had woken up knowing that he was never going to. He had spent five hours in the hotel bathroom gagging at the sink, trying to throw up his empty stomach. How could he move on knowing that… _knowing_ that he _couldn’t_ move on?

He had to cut his hair because having it long just reminded him of how Lavi smiled when he touched it. He had to tell himself enough times that Lavi _wasn’t_ , Lavi _isn’t_ , Lavi _won’t_ be—just so that he could believe it

He wanted to so desperately believe it.

“He still likes you if that’s any comfort,” Alma says, picking up the orange scarves curiously.

“He doesn’t,” Kanda shakes his head, frustrated. “He can’t…he…”

“He kissed you.”

“It doesn’t mean anything. We fucked once, and that didn’t mean anything. It doesn’t—“

“Yuu,” Alma sighs, settling his hands on Kanda’s shoulder. “Do you want it to not mean anything?”

Kanda’s head is bowed, and his hands shift closer together, gripping the draw harder. “…He saw everything. What is fucking wrong with me, Alma?” he whispers, tone dropping. “Why can’t I forget him? Why do I…”

The sentence never completes, and Alma clasps his hand over Kanda’s own which are shaking violently. "“Yuu. It’s okay,” he says gently. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Kanda replies hoarsely.

“It is,” Alma insists. “Look. Okay, so, fuck. He saw you at your worst. Two ways it can go, right? If he shits on you for it, then, you don’t need a fucking asshole. I’ll kick his ass so hard, he’ll be crippled for life. If he doesn’t…if he understands…” he says, looking intent. “Promise me you’ll meet him halfway.”

“I can’t… I still…” Kanda stares harder at his knees. “I’m so fucking messed up, I—“

“It’s time you tried something different from the past seven years,” Alma states carefully. “What could possibly be worse than this?”

It’s silent for a minute before Kanda speaks. “You did not just say that. Fuck.”

“Yuu!” Alma cries indignantly. “I wasn’t trying to jinx you, I was being _literal_. Really. What else could be worse?”

Kanda looks away. “…I don’t want him to hate me,” he admits, voice quiet.

It’s such an unreasonable hope. Kanda is sure Lavi hates him already—if not for the past few events, then for the unexplained seven years of hurt and disappointment. And yet he says it because it’s the only thing that he can make an excuse to himself why he can’t find his courage to face Lavi with the truth.

It’s wearing out, and Alma knows this.

“He won’t,” Alma says, steady with an inward smile. “I promise.”


	7. Six

Lavi does visit the area around Leicester Square pretty often since there are plenty of restaurants in Soho, but he doesn’t visit the actual Chinatown as much. The streets are dim save for street lighting. There are people on the streets, but the main Asian supermarkets have already closed. It’s actually half to midnight, where the Chinese restaurant he’s heading towards is apparently still open.

He walks slowly, not entirely confident.

The signboard of _The Lotus_ hangs in deep red over the entrance, and after pretending to look at the menu board outside for ten minutes, he looks at the white card in his hands again. It’s creased from how he’s bent the card while musing through night and day whether he should be here. There are just too many questions.

Why did Kanda’s boyfriend throw this out for him? Was it an invitation? Did the other want to meet him? Did the other want to talk about _them_? Did he overstep—he did, he bites his lip, he so did by kissing Kanda, _fuck_.

He takes a deep breath and pushes past the heavy glass door.

A waitress turns at his arrival. “Sir, we’re not serving anymore.”

“No, I…I’m here to meet someone,” he says, looking around. The restaurant looks larger on the inside, packed with tables lined with white tablecloths. There are only about three clusters of people scattered around eating, most of the dishes already empty. “One of your…employees? Um. He’s a little shorter than me,” he describes, thinking. “Short hair. He has a…mark on his nose, uh…”

The waitress raises her eyebrows in confusion before she eventually blinks. “Please wait a moment.”

She walks deeper into the restaurant and disappears behind a divider at the back. Lavi flips the card in his hands again, staring at it until footsteps signal her return. This time, she comes with the man he’s looking for behind her.

“Ah,” the man hums when he sees Lavi. “I’ve got this,” he assures the girl. “You can go home. I’ll take care of the rest,” he cocks his head to the rest of the lingering customers.

She smiles and murmurs a thank you, zipping away to the back.

Lavi looks at the other warily, not sure if he’s welcome, but, he came for a reason.

“The least you could do was to come earlier and give me some business,” Alma begins, shaking his head as he steps forward.

The redhead looks rather off, eye darting around as if to take in as much of the unfamiliar surroundings in as possible. His hair is slightly mussed, probably from the number of times he’s been running his hand through it, and his tie is slightly loosened, top unbutton undone.

“I didn’t want to interrupt if…” Lavi tries to explain in words, but he breathes in instead. “I’m Lavi,” he offers his hand.

Alma raises an eyebrow, arms crossed. “I know who you are.”

It feels a bit weird whenever he scrutinizes the redhead. It’s weird because of all people Kanda could’ve liked, it ended up being this guy. Well, he was pretty handsome if Alma had to be objective, but, he didn’t get _what_ about him that Kanda is so attached to.

Lavi presses his lips together. “I. I’m sorry,” he says, holding a strong gaze. “For kissing Yuu. I didn’t…it’s…it’s not his fault. I was the one who came onto him. He didn’t even kiss me back. So,” he states like some sort of final conclusion.

The redhead looks so fake trying to keep a cool front but it’s obvious that he’s utterly miserable, and that makes Alma’s heart twitch. He contemplates making the other even more desperate but he decides it would be too cruel.

“Alma,” he says finally, sighing. “That’s my name. I’m Yuu’s best friend, not his boyfriend,” he watches a flicker of something passing through the other’s eye. “I’m not interested in people of your gender—Yuu is a testament to that fact. Though, if I was interested in Yuu, you wouldn’t have stood a _chance_ in high school.”

“Alma?” Lavi frowns, repeating it softly under his breath. The name is very familiar, but the memory slips from his grasp the more he tries to chase it. He gives up when it doesn’t hit. “…You know about…us in high school?”

“I’ve been Yuu’s best friend before you even met him,” Alma snorts. “I know everything.”

Lavi stays silent.

“Why did you come, Lavi?” Alma asks finally.

“What’s wrong with Yuu?” the redhead blurts, hands clenching and unclenching in agitation. “I need to know what the hell’s been—“

“There is nothing _wrong_ with him,” Alma snaps, cutting him off coldly.

Lavi’s jaw tightens. “I…I saw it. Yuu was…he was trying to puke so hard I thought he was going to choke and—“

“That’s a panic attack,” Alma interrupts. “He gets them.”

Lavi frowns, mouth opening and closing just barely, obvious that he doesn’t know what to say. “…Why?”

Alma looks over to his restaurant. “Sit,” he thumbs to a table. “I have customers.”

When Alma walks away to answer the call from his patrons, Lavi gingerly takes off his jacket and sits himself awkwardly at one of the smaller tables. Alma comes by and drops off a plate of peeled oranges and fortune cookies plus a pot of tea causally before he’s off again, speaking rapid Cantonese to someone else. There is nothing to do so Lavi pours himself a cup of tea and cracks a fortune cookie, unravelling the message inside as he chews the cracker. It’s sweet.

_The most important thing in communication is to hear what isn’t being said._

Minutes pass as the customers leave, and finally there is one old man folding up the tablecloths with Alma. Lavi glances over at them while he sips the bitter tea—it’s hot and it warms his parched throat, so he has no complaints—barely hearing bits of pieces of Cantonese traded back and forth. It’s not a language he knows but they’re obviously talking about him.

“Yes, okay,” Alma says in some exasperated tone, wincing when the elder pulls on his ear. “Okay, okay. I’ll do the dishes, gramps, just go and sleep already.”

“Don’t stay up too late,” the old man says in reply, heaving the folded clothes into his arms. He gives Lavi a curious glance but it’s a short one before he goes off to the back section.

Alma makes his place into the seat opposite Lavi when they’re left alone, snatching an orange slice.

“You own this place?” Lavi asks by way of breaking the ice, because the silence resounds more intimidating than he’d like to admit.

“My granddad does,” Alma shrugs. “That was him, by the way.”

It’s fairly obvious that Kanda’s ‘best friend’ isn’t very forthcoming, but Lavi doesn’t expect much more. He doesn’t know exactly how to deal though—he’s only here because it’s the only place he’s reasoned with himself that he can get some answers. He doesn’t know what the other knows; what does ‘everything’ means? Everything from Kanda’s side of the story?

What about _his_ heartbreak, _his_ hurt, _his_ disappointment, _his_ confusion?

“Why does Yuu have panic attacks?” he asks flatly. “And how often does he get them?”

Alma looks at him in a way that he really hates, all knowing and full of pity.

“I’m told you’re a smart man,” Alma pours himself tea as he speaks slowly. “Heir to the legal powerhouse?” he questions, but he isn’t really looking for an answer. “Lavi, why do you think Yuu performed the disappearing act on you seven years ago? Why do you think he’s been killing himself trying to avoid you now?”

Lavi breathes out, frustrated. “I…I don’t know! Why do you think I’m even here?” he demands. “All I get is that it’s because of _me_ , but what the _fuck_ did I do? I’ve done nothing to him! _Nothing_ I can think of! If there was he should just spit it in my face, I told him so, I—“ he sucks in a controlled breath, voice rising. “If I’ve hurt him I would’ve done _anything_ to make it up to him but I can’t fucking do anything if I don’t fucking know what the _fuck_ is going on!” he yells.

He trembles from just how furious he is—at everything.

A loud snap comes from Alma cracking a fortune cookie in half, and Lavi deflates, struggling to control his emotions.

“Then,” Alma says calmly. “Tell me what you know.”

And Lavi does.

“In the first year, I…” he begins, voice subdued. “After…I told Yuu I liked him, he said he did too. I asked him out and we did a couple of times, but he never seemed to like it. He never wanted to have dinner with me and we never even held hands. We only watched movies, and when we were watching a movie he’d disappear for half of the time and after three weeks he told me he couldn’t hang out anymore because he needed to study for A levels, which, was a totally legitimate reason,” he relates.

“But he studied alone and I never saw him unless we were in class. During the exams I only saw him in the hall where he sat rows away diagonally from me, and the last day…he didn’t even bother to wait for me. I saw him walk out the school gates into a taxi and that was it,” Lavi swallows. “He didn’t turn up to receive his results. No one knew where he went, whether he was going to college or he got a job, or anything. And I...” he closes his eyes. “…For years, I…” he whispers, voice almost cracking. “I thought I saw him _everywhere_.”

Alma leans forward, a very slight sigh in his posture. “This is a gamble I’m taking,” he says, almost reluctantly. “But I’ll tell you as it is. It’s really simple, to be honest,” he shakes his head, lip twitching. “You made Yuu _like_ you. Hell, he’s probably in love with you, except I think it’s more of an unhealthy obsession than actual love,” he frowns slightly. “But anyway, because of this, he gets panic attacks over you.”

Lavi’s eyebrows knit together, so Alma elaborates.

“The disappearances during your movie dates? He was in the bathroom freaking out. When he thinks about you, he freaks out. When he sees you, he freaks out. When you touch him—you saw what happened: he freaks the _fuck_ out. Are you getting the pattern?”

“What…? Why?”

“You make him uncomfortable. And I don’t mean uncomfortable in the face your fears shit. I mean it in the trauma inducing shit. He gets nervous around you, and then he panics more about getting nervous. It’s a vicious cycle,” Alma sighs. “Social anxiety. Look it up.”

“Couldn’t he just…calm down? I wouldn’t have done anything to him, I—“

“You think asking him to calm the fuck down is a solution?” Alma coughs in incredulity. “Dude, you think telling Yuu to calm down while he’s trying to heck up _blood_ is going to work? If it was that simple do you think you’d be here?”

“Then…shouldn’t Yuu get medication for it?” Lavi asks, frowning. “I mean, there are ways to deal with it, right? Therapy?”

“The first and last time I said that to Yuu, he punched me,” Alma snorts. “Various reasons. Pride issues. Yuu refuses to let anyone know. Hell, he’s scared. He doesn’t want to be labelled, to be stuck in a slump. He thinks he can deal with it and he has, most of the time. Except when it’s about you.”

The redhead blinks quiet. “…But…why? Couldn’t he just… _tell_ me? And it doesn’t change the past seven years, I—“

“You were hurt, I get that,” Alma looks at him. “But it wasn’t easy on Yuu, okay? He lived the guilt knowing the consequences of what he did. He is still living the guilt. I’m not saying you suffered less—hell, you seem pretty wrecked, that’s why you’re even talking to me, right?” he cocks an eyebrow. “I’m just saying that if you’ve been through the past seven years with Yuu…you would know how much he hated himself for it. Everyday.”

“But…but _why_?” Lavi presses. “Why does Yuu have anxiety? Did something happen to him when he was a kid or—?”

“Why?” Alma repeats harshly, eyes narrowing. “What, does someone need a fucking _reason_ to have a disorder? Is it his fault that he doesn’t have some sappy tragic backstory you can blame this on? Parents murdered, maybe raped when he was young? Would that make it _easier_ for you to understand why he has fucking anxiety?”

“N-no, I was just—“

“Half of the reason why Yuu hates himself so much is because people like _you_ think that he’s not _allowed_ to be this way,” Alma glares, controlling his tone volume. “Do you have any fucking idea how scared he is of letting his dad find out because he thinks he’s a disappointment? Do you fucking realise that the reason why he doesn’t want to tell you is because he’s so scared of you thinking that he’s trash? Yuu is Yuu and if you can’t get that then please, _leave him the fuck alone_ ,” he snaps. “He has enough shit from himself. He doesn’t need yours too.”

The redhead is pressed back against the seat, eye wide from the outburst towards him. He looks shocked, mouth parting silently.

But Alma isn’t done yet. He knows it’s unfair to Lavi, but he needs to know how much the other will take. “What about you? Why do you have abandonment issues?”

“Abandonment issues?” Lavi repeats, incredulous. “I don’t have—“

“You can’t let go of Yuu,” Alma scoffs. “You two merely played _footsie_ in high school and yet you’re still so stuck on him after seven fucking years. You looked like you wanted to kill me when I held Yuu at the bus stop,” he snorts. “I dare you to tell me that’s not in the _least_ bit fucked up.”

“I—“ Lavi wants to deny it but, he knows it is exactly like the other puts it.

It’s ridiculous how Kanda and him had shared nothing and yet it still feels like it is his everything.

“We all have issues, Lavi,” Alma adopts a softer tone, leaning on his palm. “As for me, I’m transgender.”

_“Alma’s always saying crap,” Kanda grumbles, shifting his backpack as he walks faster towards the school gate. “Like you.”_

_“Which is precisely why I should meet her,” Lavi rolls his eye, but yelps when he sees Kanda more than two meters in front of him. “Hey, Yuu, wait up—“_

“…You,” Lavi blinks rapidly, flabbergasted. “Yuu talked about you before,” he says faintly, squinting at the other. “I couldn’t tell that you…used to be a girl.”

“Yeah…that’s the point?” Alma cocked his eyebrow. “The transitioning wasn’t a walk in the park. My old man was fine with it, but my parents…” he wrinkles his nose. “But fuck, they’re in Hong Kong all the time anyway. They were plenty of people like them, of course. You find out who your real friends are,” he smirks. “Yuu didn’t give a shit. The therapy was weird, you know, second puberty. Yuu helped me through it. He even took trains back over weekends if I asked him to.”

“Anyway, my point is,” Alma breathes. “Whatever Yuu has, it doesn’t make him any more fucked up than you or me. The reason why I threw you my card is because I think you can help him,” he says honestly. “His tactic of avoiding you is obviously shit, so I want to try another plan. But it’s not going to be easy. I will need you to put away whatever feelings you hold against Yuu for the past seven years. I will need you to be as patient as fuck,” he looks at Lavi seriously. “I don’t know how Yuu will react, and there is no backdoor in this, you understand?”

“…I—“

“Don’t give me an answer now,” Alma taps the table absentmindedly. “You are under no obligation to do anything for Yuu,” he states. “But I really hope that you will.”

* * *

“So, have you asked Lenalee out yet?” Lavi grins by way of greeting when they meet outside  _Wahaca_ for a drink.

Allen ignores it. “Hey Lavi. Let’s go in, it’s kind of chilly today.”

Lavi smiles and follows after the Brit who makes his way past the entrance of the Mexican restaurant and down the steps into the bar. The place is roomy with many corners to take their pick, but they head towards the bar counter and sit themselves down. It’s fairly quiet despite the buzz upstairs.

Lavi orders a white Russian. Allen gets a persimmon mocktail. The redhead is quite familiar with the younger’s distaste for alcohol—something  about it relating to his guardian—and he’s seen Allen defiantly drink tap water at every stop in a bar crawl during their college years. The kid has some serious resistance against peer pressure.

“Why haven’t you asked her out?” Lavi asks, curious. “I thought it was kind of obvious that she likes you—and I only met her for like, ten minutes.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Sure it is,” he snorts. “You tell her, ‘I think you’re awesome and if you date me, we could be awesome-er’ and she’ll—“

“She has a brother,” Allen says like that’s the answer to everything.

“I should meet her again,” Lavi grins. “I’ll change her mind for you.”

Allen looks so skeptical that he almost feels offended.

“Right,” Allen coughs into his palm with a raised eyebrow. “Anyway, we talked about going to brunch at this dim sum place in Chinatown. She’s packed their dumplings a couple of times and it’s _amazing_ ,” he relates excitedly. “If you come along, then we can go.”

“This is so weird. I feel so used, but yet, it’s totally ace,” Lavi blinks. “Alright, where this place? Will it burn a hole in my pocket?”

“Lenalee said she knows the chef, she can get us a discount. I can’t remember the name of the restaurant, but it’s something about a flower. Peony? Carnation? No, that doesn’t sound right—“

“…Lotus?” Lavi hazards a guess.

“Yeah,” Allen snaps his fingers. “You’ve been there?”

Lavi looks at his drink. _Huh_. “….Just recently.”

Something in his facial expression must have changed, because Allen lowers his voice in concern. “Did something happen?”

“Well...” he hums, stirring his cup. “Hypothetically speaking, if…if there was someone who hurt you really badly in the past, and now they need your help…but to do that you have to forget whatever that’s happened…could you do it? Would you do it?”

“Do you mean forgetting or forgiving?” Allen asks, eyebrow furrowed. “Because I think forgetting something that hurt me that badly would be impossible. But forgiveness…I could try.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it tiring to hold on to so much anger?” he muses. “If not for them, then for me…I’d want to move on.”

Lavi sighs. “But what if you can’t move on? I’m tired of trying, Allen. It’s so fucking tiring. What if nothing changes?” he says more to himself than for an answer. His grip tightens on his cup. “I said ‘try for the last time’ so many times. When is the last try ever going to _be_ the last try?”

“Then, would you regret not trying?”

“I don’t know,” Lavi answers. “I don’t even know why I’m trying. It’s exactly like what Alma said—we didn’t even do anything, but I…can’t….this is so fucking messed up.”

Allen reaches out and pats the back of the redhead’s hair as he slumps forward. He doesn’t fully understand what’s going on, but he’s roughly guessing it’s got to do with this ‘Kanda Yuu’. It’s always has.

“I’ve been trying to wrap my head around it,” Lavi mumbles, turning his head to glance over. “How much do you know about anxiety?”

“Anxiety? Well, it’s not an area I’m really familiar with, but literature indicates it’s got to do with some disorder in the limbic-medial prefrontal circuit. Amygdala and insula hyperactivation, the sorts. But of course—“

“Not the science about it, neurogeek,” Lavi cuts him off with a smile that dampens a little after. “I mean like, how do you deal with it?”

“There’s citalopram. Or other SSRIs, or benzodiazepines—“

“No, like,” Lavi sighs. “If you knew someone who had it, and drugs and therapy are out the question...how do you help someone like that?”

Allen furrows his eyebrows in thought. “…I guess…just be a support. The environment is really important any recovery process.”

“Yeah, but _how_? What if you’re the cause of it? Doesn’t that mean I should leave him alone instead?”

“What do you mean by ‘cause’?” Allen blinks.

“Like, the…trigger? Because of me, he freaks out,” Lavi sets his forehead on the counter. “Because of _me_. How fucked up is that?” he groans. “I’m not saying it’s his fault but is this _my_ fault then? It’s not like I ever wanted him to like me—I mean, I do, but not to this…this—“

“It’s not anyone’s fault, Lavi,” Allen says comfortingly. “It’s just a situation you need to deal carefully with. Firstly, what do you want to do? I’m asking what you _want_ , not what you think you should do.”

“I…I don’t know.”

But Allen only nods and drinks his mocktail patiently, until Lavi speaks up again several silent minutes later.

“I want Yuu back,” he admits quietly, head down and eye closed. “But I shouldn’t, right? I can’t go in thinking that this will lead on to some happy ending because it won’t and I’ll just screw him up even more because it’s just too much. I can’t just put the seven years behind me, Allen. I feel like a fucking _wreck_.”

Allen breathes out slowly. “I can’t say that I understand how you feel,” he begins. “But…this time, it’s different from the seven years, right?” he puts a hand on Lavi’s arm. “Will you regret not trying this one time?”

Lavi laughs in a sort of bitter way. “I already know I will.”

“And I think you already knew your answer.”

He takes his drink, clicking it to Allen’s glass. “Try again. Fail again,” he murmurs. “I just wish I’d fail better.”

* * *

It takes him the weekend too, but eventually he decides he’s been staring at his phone for far too long, especially when it’s three in the morning.

A sleepy voice and yawn answers the phone at the opposite end.

“If you’re ordering takeaway, business hours are from nine to—“

“Hey,” Lavi starts.

Alma sighs. “I’m not your therapist.”

“I know, I just—“ Lavi presses his lips together, tongue agitated in his mouth. “…What can I do? For Yuu. I. It’s not…I still…” he struggles. “I just want to understand. I…I want to understand Yuu.”

“I actually don’t get why you want to do this,” Alma says after a long while of silence.

“Weren’t you the one who asked me to—“

“Yeah, so, if I asked you to jump off a cliff would you do it?” Alma snorts. “Why are you doing this? Is this for Yuu, or for you?”

It takes a while, but eventually Lavi does respond. “Both,” he says. “Both of us. I…I would have done anything to help Yuu seven years ago. I need to know that I did, even if it’s seven years late.”

Alma muffles his yawn in his hand. It’s too early for this personal heart-to-heart. “Give me your email. You have a shit ton of reading to do.”

* * *

Kanda doesn’t think his best friend is a godsend despite the fact that Alma has probably literally saved his life countless times, because the guy can be quite the asshole.

“So,” Alma begins completely suddenly one day. “I talked to Lavi.”

The bastard even says it while they’re eating dinner, but at least it’s in Kanda’s apartment. It takes a few seconds for Kanda to really register what the sentence means.

“…You _what_?”

“I told him everything,” Alma goes on, chewing on a mouthful of stir fried noodles.

There are a million questions—how the fuck did Alma even find Lavi, how the fuck did Alma get in touch with Lavi, why the fuck did Lavi even talk to Alma—but these questions grind to a jumbled mess when he feels the sickening drop of his stomach.

“Hey,” Alma grabs his hand the moment his chopsticks clatter. “It’s good. He wants to understand you.”

“What…what’s there to _understand_?” he hisses, trying to yank his hand back. “I’m just fucked up, end of fucking story—“

“Yuu,” Alma looks at him seriously. “You promised me that you’ll try to meet him halfway.”

“I didn’t promise you shit—“

“Just fucking _listen_ , okay?” Alma raises his voice, and Kanda glares back, though silent. “I’m not going to say sorry. You can hate me, whatever, but I talked to Lavi because I think you owe him an explanation that’s seven years’ due. Not because having anxiety is your fault, but because dragging him like this in the dark is going to leave scars on him, Yuu, if it already hasn’t.”

“I didn’t ask for him to—“

“Yeah, well, you didn’t ask to like him either, right?” Alma stares in challenge. “He’s willing to understand you. He doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t think you’re useless or pathetic or whatever stupid things you think you are. What more do you want from him, Yuu?”

“I want him to stop making me so…” Kanda shakes his head. “I can’t. You know I can’t. Fuck, Alma, I can’t—“

“Fuck the ‘can’t’,” Alma says firmly. “Fuck it.  Just one meeting with him. I’ll be with you the whole time. If it gets bad, he’ll leave immediately. I’ll never ask you to do this again. I just want you to try at least once. _Once_.”

When Kanda keeps quiet, Alma grips his hand tighter. “Fearless Yuu, where are you?”

“I hate it when you use my first fucking name like that,” Kanda snaps. “It’s not going to work,” he says after.

“I’m not saying he’s gonna cure you,” Alma rolls his eyes. “But maybe you can get used to him. Maybe you’ll freak out _less_. Maybe you won’t have to call me about having a panic attack, because we’ll work out how you’ll be your own anchor. I know you’re tired of this. So let’s fuck the ‘can’t’. Let’s do this. How about it?”

Kanda stares at his dinner plate. “…Will you let go of my hand if I do this? It’s fucking gay.”

“Hypocrite,” Alma sniffs, retracting his hand. “Right. So. I’m going to text him to ring the doorbell now—“

“Wait, _n-now_?” Kanda isn’t sure if his voice cracks in shock, or whether he’s just, in fucking _shock_.

“Then when?”

Instantly he feels his heartbeat rocket. “I-I can’t—I’m not ready for this, I—“

“Yuu, you’ll never be ready, so fuck it, let’s just do it, alright? I’m gonna be here the whole time, there’s nothing to worry about.”

That is and isn’t really the issue. “Why do you even have his number?” he demands.

Alma looks over his phone slyly. “Why, do you want it?”

“N-no!”

“I’ll give it to you later,” he concludes, pressing the final button before Kanda thinks of snatching the device to break it. “Don’t back out on me. He took the trouble to come over.”

Kanda stands up in agitation, running his hand through his short hair. “He lives like five fucking minutes away! Fuck,” he retorts, pacing about because his hands start to get jittery.

It’s such a bad idea—what the fuck was he even thinking? Why did he for a second think that maybe, _maybe_ this might work? He’s going to throw up even before the doorbell—

And the doorbell dings as if on cue.

“Details,” Alma grins. “Get the door, Yuu.”

Kanda shoots the other a hard glare, but it’s ruined by how he can’t really concentrate at anything except for how much he can’t stand still. Alma comes over and takes his trembling hand, holding it close to his chest.

“Hey,” Alma says softly. “Breathe. Slowly,” he instructs calmly. “I’m with you. Every step of the way. Do you trust me?”

Kanda really wants to shake his head because he wants out—he wants Lavi to leave, he wants to run from this sickening, sickening feeling, but he finds himself nodding. One fucking try, right? Just one.

Alma ushers him to the front door. “Okay. So. Let him in.”

“I hate you,” Kanda mutters under his breath, but he forces himself to stick his hand out and turns the knob just as Alma murmurs an “I love you too.”

As he knows, the moment his eyes meet with Lavi’s green one, he flushes and looks away. He feels the reflex to slam the door shut, but his grip slips from how much he’s shaking. Lavi is looking at him with a sort of wariness, arms clutching a fruits basket.

“Um. This is for you guys,” the redhead says as he offers it up.

Alma coughs in something suspiciously like a laugh, but he takes the basket because Kanda isn’t going to. “Right. This is fucking awkward, but we all knew it was going to be. Come in before Yuu slams the door in your face.”

Lavi glances at Kanda and immediately shifts his eye to the ground when he enters, taking off his shoes. He sneaks peeks at where Alma has pulled Kanda to, holding his arm and speaking to him in low tones. Every so often it seems like Kanda wants to look back, but he visibly catches himself and stares at something else. Lavi doesn’t know what to do so he walks cautiously to the kitchen area, where they are. Two half eaten plates of noodles are on the dining table, but Alma clears it to a side and makes Kanda sit on one of the chairs. He gestures for him to come over too.

“You are going to sit across him,” Alma tells Kanda. “And I’ll be in the living room. If something happens, I’ll come in.”

“You’re leaving me alone?” Kanda shoots him an abrupt accusing stare.

“In the _kitchen_ ,” Alma huffs. “I’ll be ten steps away. You can do this, alright? I know you can,” he pats Kanda on the shoulder. “Remember what I said,” he says to Lavi before he leaves.

Kanda immediately regrets letting Alma out of his vision, because all at once the tension burns more awkward than ever. He doesn’t want to look at Lavi because he doesn’t want to see any sort of expression on Lavi’s face—is it accusing? Is it pity? Is it disgust?

Kanda looks like he’s in literal fright, and Lavi doesn’t think he’s ever seen the Kanda he knew look like that. He fiddles with his fingers, carefully watching the other. All of a sudden it seems like once he knew what exactly Kanda is afflicted with, it stands out stark to see. He sees Kanda’s nervous shift backwards into his chair although there is no space, he sees Kanda hiding his clenched hands under the table. He sees how Kanda is panicking—widened eyes, uneven breaths, hard stare. He resists the urge to lean forward and grip him firmly and tell him there’s _nothing_ to panic about—it’s just him. Lavi. What could he _possibly_ do?

“…How have you been?” he says instead, attempting a smile.

Kanda stands up from the table, chair screeching.

“Hey,” Lavi starts, mimicking his gesture. “It’s okay,” he says it like he means it, like Alma taught him to. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want. It’s okay, Yuu.”

“It’s not,” Kanda replies, direct to him for the first time. “You and I both know it’s fucking not.”

“It’s okay today,” Lavi says softly. “Sit down. Please?”

Lavi sits first, and Kanda loosens his held breath. He glances over to the kitchen doorway reminding himself that Alma is out there—if this is going to shit, Alma will be here. He’s been the same room as Lavi before, for work. He’s sat through things worse than this—where there isn’t the safety of his own home, where there is no comfort from Alma. He has them now.

He forces himself to sit. “What do you want?”

“Let’s just…talk,” Lavi shrugs with a faint smile. “About something. Anything. Work. Fencing—you still do fencing, don’t you?”

“…Sometimes.”

“Cool,” he nods. “Uh. Do you still compete?”

“No.”

“At home then?”

Kanda nods curtly.

Lavi blinks rapidly, trying to think of something else to follow it up with before the atmosphere descends into awkwardness again. Fuck, he knows he’s the one who talked to Kanda first and that’s how their relationship had started, but now even as he feels the same urge to talk he knows he can’t ask all the things that he wants to.

What happened in the past seven years? Who did Kanda meet? Where did he go? What did he do?

He wets his lips and sees Kanda fidget, staring at the table. “Um. Do we have a client soon?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay…what does that mean?”

“The buyer is sitting on it.”

“Oh. Then. Well.”

It lapses into silence again.

“You guys suck ass at talking,” Alma’s voice cuts through abruptly, sounding pained. “Yuu, open your golden mouth. I know you can say something to him. You’re just being a dick.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kanda hisses back, annoyed.

Lavi chuckles at the reaction, but that makes Kanda stop like he’s caught unaware.

“What?” Kanda snaps, defensive.

“Nothing. It’s just,” Lavi grins. “I missed you.”

Lavi immediately knows it’s something he shouldn’t have said by the way Kanda stares at him disbelievingly.

“I mean I missed ‘that’!” he tries to correct himself, waving frantically. “The way you…”

It’s probably not helping, because Kanda shoves his hand over his mouth and backs his chair so hard that it topples the moment he stands.

“Yuu? Are you freaking out?” Lavi gets up, attempting to go over. “Shit, uh. Calm down. I swear didn’t mean to do that!”

Kanda backs away, eyes grimacing when he feels the familiar lurch in his stomach. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It’s an odd sensation to feel his face burning but at the same time he feels so cold inside. Alma is beside him in the next instant, rubbing his back gently.

“I told you not to say things like that!” Alma hisses at Lavi.

“I’m sorry! It…it just slipped!” Lavi says, fidgeting on his own as he hangs back.

He still doesn’t understand why this has to happen but watching Kanda tremble under Alma’s hold is not something he can ignore. The things that Alma had given him to read—how to recognise the signs of a panic attack, what to do, what not to do—made him think about how Kanda is _suffering_ from this. He doesn’t know how a panic attack feels, but seeing Kanda—the man he always thought was so _strong_ —visibly trying to hold himself together from falling apart, it makes him swallow hard.

“Hey, Yuu, it’s okay,” Alma murmurs. “He’s just an idiot, see? Nothing to worry about.”

Lavi tries to smile when Kanda flickers his gaze over to him. It takes a while, but eventually Kanda does lower his hand, breathing out slowly. He doesn’t look at Lavi though.

“Why are you here?” he asks finally, voice a little hoarse from the slight gagging he did earlier.

“I want to get to know you again,” Lavi says.

“Why?”

“Because….” Lavi rolls the word out. “ _Apparently,_ I didn’t get to know the real Yuu back then,” he offers an upturn of his lips when Kanda looks at him. “I’m Lavi, if you’ve forgotten already. What’s your name?”

He knows Kanda remembers this when he says the next line. “If you’re mute you can sign your name.”

Kanda stares at him at silently. A blush creeps up his neck and colours his cheeks as the memory replays— _I can sign too._ _¿Hablas español?_  

He doesn’t understand why Lavi is doing this. If he was Lavi—he would’ve turned away and never looked back for someone so screwed up. But maybe this was one of the reasons why Lavi was etched into his heart—his persistence, his determination, his acceptance of an anti-social eighteen year old eight years ago, and even now.

Why does Lavi try so hard when he…all he has done is to run away?

“¿Hablas español? Bahasa melayu _?”_ Lavi continues, still smiling. _“_ Hangugmal hae?”

Alma has a hand on his shoulder, firm and warm.

“还是讲中文? 日本語?”

“Kanda,” he forces himself to say, controlling his tremble. He hopes his face isn’t as red as he thinks it is. “Kanda Yuu.”


	8. Seven

 It’s inevitable, but the moment Lavi leaves, Kanda rests his forehead on the closed door, struggling to breathe.

“Yuu?” Alma murmurs, rubbing his thumb soothingly on the other’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright. You were awesome. Major progress.”

Kanda coughs, half choking from the abrupt exhale of air.

“I’m serious,” the other continues, speaking lowly. “I thought you’d need a _lot_ more convincing, or that you were going to back out halfway, but look, you didn’t.”

“Because I fucking run from everything?” Kanda mutters, eyes closed.

“Because it was something that needed a lot of courage,” Alma corrects. “You did it, bro.”

“I didn’t even…I couldn’t…” Kanda shakes his head, breaths tightly controlled to calm down, until he finally sighs. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Said what?” Alma cocks an eyebrow. “You said like _two_ words, consisting of your surname and your first name. If anything, you should’ve said more.”

“I don’t know what to say to him. Everything sounds so fucking stupid and…and—“

“Honestly, you could say shit and I’d doubt Lavi would even care,” Alma rolls his eyes, but he backtracks when he feels Kanda stiffen under his palm. “I mean, he’d probably be content just to watch your mouth move and—ah fuck, I’m not going down that road, whatever. All I’m saying is that you don’t have to worry about what you need to say. Just...talk with him. He asks a question, you answer it. You wanna know something about him, ask him. We’ll try it again, okay?”

Kanda breathes in silence. “…Can we not?” he says eventually.

“Fuck _no_ ,” Alma snorts. “We’re gonna bulldoze this.”

* * *

They try it for three weeks.

Three weeks, and if Lavi were to be completely honest, there isn’t progress. Or maybe, progress that he hoped he’d see. Or maybe, this whole situation is a lot more fucked up then he gave it credit for.  After the first meeting in which he thought was a pretty good start—though Kanda hadn’t managed to say anything other than his name—he had walked home in a daze recalling the same words spoken by the same face so many years ago but so clear, the way the gentle syllables of the other’s name was pronounced, the curl over the vowels.

It made his heart clench and breath catch, but then a sickening regret settled into his stomach after, from the muted blur of the last day he ever saw Kanda walking out of the gate in high school, never looking back. The same feeling bubbles each time he sees Kanda avoid his gaze while he attempts his pathetic tries at conversation—and it gets harder to up keep his smile amidst the painful strained atmosphere of the quiet kitchen, with him staring at the wall at the side while he mentally counts for Kanda, who stares at the table, jaw tight.

Kanda hasn’t really said much to him since the other’s own name. He still feels just as far away on the other side of a chasm that he can’t see the edge of, even when they sit across each other at the table barely a meter apart. He sees Kanda desperately struggling to be in the mere vicinity that he is in—and just the thought of that hurts, hurts,

_hurts_ —

Alma walks with him to the bus stop after a particularly silent meeting, deep in thought.

“What do you like about Yuu? Other than his face,” the other asks abruptly, still looking upwards at the sky with a frown pulling at his lips. “Or his dick.”

Lavi looks over at him once and shrugs very vaguely. “Why are you his best friend?”

“Hey, don’t knock it,” Alma cocks his head, eyeing him. “I asked first.”

The redhead doesn’t answer immediately. “…Have you ever seen Yuu fence?” he asks, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets. “Okay stupid question,” he mutters to himself right after and sighs. “Yuu is—was…amazing, you know? On the mat. No one could ever touch him. Not just when he fenced either, I mean, the first time I saw him, I just…I could learn something new about him every day. I still am. Yuu’s just…” his lips curl a little at the edges, but it falls as he stares at his feet moving forward, finally halting to a stop at the bus stop. “…I don’t know. I don’t even know if I still…or maybe I…” he breathes, trailing off completely silent.

Alma nods and leans against the bus stand, but Lavi doesn’t really know what kind of nod it is. “I guess, I still don’t really understand why you’re doing this,” the other admits.

“Weren’t you the one who said I couldn’t back out?”

“Didn’t I also ask you to jump off a cliff?” Alma raises his eyebrow as he crosses his arms. “Look, Yuu is suffering, and he has for a very, very long time,” he looks at Lavi carefully. “That’s why I want this. But you. Dude. You’re a decent guy, the past three weeks have told me that much. But being decent and this…this is hard for you. I can tell,” he says lowly.

Lavi keeps his mouth closed.

“It’s not your fault either, you know.”

“…I—nevermind,” Lavi starts, but his bus rounds the corner, and Alma grabs his arm for his attention right before he boards it.

“About my question—one day, Yuu’s gonna ask you the same question. You should think about it.”

He nods, and Alma lets him go.

* * *

The week after, Lavi takes a deep breath and jabs the doorbell, clutching a top hat in his hands. When the door opens, he totally catches the judgemental look Kanda sends his way at the odd object, and then the faint blush and nervous head turn, features contorting into a scowl. The action catches him momentarily stunned even though it’s starting to get familiar, but the way light pink dusts on Kanda’s cheeks and the way he angles his chin and those sharp, beautiful, beautiful, features—

“Alma wants to know if you eat pig’s innards.”

“Err…” Lavi blinks, confused. “I’ve never tried?”

“Is that a yes or no?” Kanda demands impatiently, blatantly not looking at him.

“Yuu, you loser, you’re supposed to describe the dish!” Alma calls from the kitchen, where a delicious smell wafts from. “Leave it to you to kill a perfectly good conversational starter!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kanda snaps back, leaving the door open and strides inside, making no move to invite Lavi in.

The red head takes off his shoes and enters anyway like a usual routine, and sometimes it’s just strange at how he’s getting so comfortable in Kanda’s house. Alma just cocks his head toward the living room when he peers in at the chef busy flipping his wok. Kanda sits himself at the far end of the couch, presumably because he was told to beforehand, and Lavi gingerly takes the space next to him.

Immediately he feels Kanda stiffen—it’s closing in to four weeks and Lavi swallows at the thought that maybe Kanda would _never_ get used to him—and puts the hat on the table. As expected, Kanda eyes it again, perhaps with a little glittering interest that Lavi thinks (and hopes) is curiosity.

“Okay,” Lavi starts nervously, breaking the awkward tension. “Uh, since I’ve only been the one playing twenty questions the past weeks, I thought this might be better. I put some slips of paper with questions on them inside this hat. We take turns to pick a slip and ask the question. You don’t have to think of anything to ask me, so I thought this might be easier. Is that okay?”

Kanda’s gaze darts away the moment it catches with his. “…Fine.”

But perhaps it _is_ progress, because Kanda breathes in deeply once and stays put. He does, however, make no move to go first. Lavi reaches in the hat and randomly picks a paper.

“Okay,” he begins, opening the slip. “What’s your biggest fear?” he reads.

The colour from Kanda’s face drains, and immediately the list of questions he had found and printed off the internet from a simple icebreaker game flashes through his eidetic memory. Oh fuck, he did not think this through.

Kanda clenches his fists and stares at the table resolutely.

Lavi carefully watches the other just for that second, and pushes the hat to him just to move on. Kanda doesn’t meet his gaze but reluctantly sticks his hand in and take out another paper to read.

“What is one thing you wish for the most in the world?”

“Y—…” Lavi opens his mouth to answer, but the moment he sees Kanda’s curious glance at him, he snaps it closed.

He parts his lips again, but no sound merges, and as the awkward tension in the room sinks harder, he grabs the hat to pick another.

“You didn’t answer it,” Kanda states.

“Neither did you,” Lavi responds, avoiding all eye contact as he shifts through the hat.

It suddenly strikes him that it might not be the right thing to say, and while Kanda’s scowl deepens, he doesn’t stand up. “You know what it is,” the half-Japanese mutters softly, but immensely bitter.

Lavi grips the hat tighter, because he does know. Over the past three weeks, he really does. “…Sorry.”

“What for?”

_Everything_ , Lavi wants to say, but even he doesn’t know really know what he’s really apologising for. “I can’t answer the question,” he says instead. “It’s something I need to…think about.”

Kanda looks at him in that gaze that he can’t really read, but doesn’t say anything when he picks another paper.

“What’s one thing you can’t live without?”

The scrunch appears in Kanda’s eyebrows as the half-Japanese looks away in thought. Lavi supposes it’s a safe enough question, better than the unexpected disaster of the last two. He hadn’t given too much thought into the kind of answers that they might give when he printed them—because he what was on the tip of his tongue for the question Kanda had picked had only been two choices, both of which meant the same.

Is his life really so twisted around one person who never entwined with his in the first place? How did that happen? How does it happen? He doesn’t even know if he still—

If he does—

But it was an inevitable fact that even in this question, his answer was also going to be—

“Soba.”

Lavi blinks, startled. Kanda’s scowl is more annoyed and embarrassed than a panicked version, and Lavi blinks again. An incredulous cough slips through, and he bites his lips hard, because he doesn’t know what Kanda will do if he actually laughs.

“I didn’t think you were actually self-aware,” he states instead, fighting to keep his face straight.

“More than you are,” Kanda grumbles, snatching the hat from him. “Admit to one of your guilty pleasures,” he bites out in an obvious attempt to move on.

“Well. I uh. I like…” Lavi presses his hand on his cheeks and thinks. “Hmm, no, that’s not really a guilty pleasure…”

_Guilty pleasures? Guilty, guilty, guilty….Food? Porn? Food???_

He must have taken too long with the stifling silence, because Kanda’s scowl is almost audible. “That trashy shit you always read.”

“What—“ Lavi looks up, half stunned, half offended. “That’s—it’s _literature_!”

“It’s shit.”

Lavi huffs. “ _Pride and Prejudice_ is a classic, not that you’ve ever read it.”

“I’m not talking about that book,” Kanda says distastefully.

“Yeah, so what if I like historical romance?” Lavi grumbles, because he does know what genre of books the other is referring to. It’s still literature.  “Like you would know. You never read anything other than _Agatha Christie_ ,” he sniffs.

“Fuck you, I have a degree in Arts and Culture.”

“And that makes you qualified?”

“More than you.”

“Well, excuse you,” Lavi rolls his eye. “Did you even take a lit module? What did you major in anyway?”

“I don’t have to take a lit module to know trashy romance novels are shit.”

“Avoiding the question, Yuu,” Lavi grins. “What did you study?”

“What else?” Kanda crosses his arms and scowls. “Arts management.”

That…that actually makes so much sense that Lavi wants to slap himself. Of course, given the nature of Kanda’s job, Lavi wonders why he didn’t just assume so, instead of wondering for the past few weeks. “…But you can’t draw,” he blurts.

Kanda looks at him in the way that says _are you a fucking idiot_ , something that seems so familiar; he stares, mouth agape.

“I don’t need to know how to draw in management,” Kanda says slowly with that incredulous scowl.

“Right,” Lavi coughs. “Wait. You actually studied all that abstract art bullshit?”

Kanda actually looks so affronted that Lavi stares back in equal incredulity.

“Like, in your records you sold _Victorio_ a stack of _prints_ of a fucking black dot in the middle of a white canvas for a hundred pounds, _each_! You can’t honestly tell me that actually meant something deep and life-changing—I could’ve painted that! _You_ could’ve painted that!”

“You fucking moron, its _Malveich_ ,” Kanda glares.

“Right. Give me something Van Gough and _maybe_ I might be impressed.”

“Van Gough,” Kanda scoffs. “That’s the only artist you know, isn’t it?”

“Hey, I know Picasso too. And Monet. And Leonardo da vinci, Michelangelo,” Lavi lists, ignoring the unimpressed raised eyebrow in return. “Andy Warhol. Hokusai. Rembrandt. Um...”

“Eight artists. Eight.”

“Whatever, do _you_ even know who’s the prime minster of UK?”

“What has that got to do with fucking anything?”

“At least I know some stuff about—“

“Woah, woah,” Alma interrupts, coming to stand in front of them as he snaps his fingers loudly. “Not sure if arguing counts, but hey, a new record of twenty one minutes and forty six seconds. Whoo,” the cook pumps his fist with a sarcastic smirk. “It’s time for dinner, losers. But on topic, Lavi, you should totally hear about the time when Yuu bitched about _Piet Modro_ —“

“It’s _Mondrian_ , you fucking idiots.”

“Oh, so now you’re picky about getting his name right,” Alma rolls with eyes with a grin. “What happened to his shitty lines and shitty squares and—“

“Shut up, it was a fucking hard essay,” Kanda grumbles, standing up to stalk to the kitchen.

“Sure it was,” Alma grins in singsong, watching the half-Japanese stomp away.

Lavi blinks. “Who’s Mondrian?”

“You know that famous painting with the black lines in like a grid with coloured squares in between…thing?”

“…That’s like every description of every abstract painting,” Lavi states blankly.

“I know, but that’s really how the painting looks like,” Alma shrugs.

“I don’t get it, man,” Lavi admits.

“Neither do I, but hey,” Alma pats his shoulder as they make way to the kitchen. “It gets Yuu riled up every time. I think you guys found a bit of a common ground today. Not bad.”

“Progress?”

“I’d say so, yeah,” Alma smiles as they glance at Kanda glaring at the food that was laid out on the table discreetly. “Now,” he grins wider. “Ready to try some intestines?”

Lavi looks at the brown mess on the plate, which, truthfully, smells awesome but the idea of guts… “Maybe not,” he grimaces.

But then, he didn’t have a choice.

* * *

“Hey.”

Kanda startles a little although he knows that Lavi is still lingering behind after the representative from _Hev & Co._ had left after signing the purchase they had been sitting on for a month. The redhead ruffles the hair at the back of his head scooting closer with the chair. Kanda looks up from signing his name at the bottom sheet of a paper he was in the middle of—his signature shakes a little at the up curve, but, it’s progress because he replies this time.

“W-what?”

Lavi looks carefully at him as if to judge something—Kanda kind of hates that but he knows the redhead is doing to it gauge his reaction. “Okay. This might be a bad idea, but uh, doyouwanttogoseeamovie?”

“What?” he repeats in confusion.

Lavi breathes out, jittery. “I. I asked if you…want to see a movie,” he says again, much slower, and then rushes the rest out, with his voice slightly higher pitched in nervousness. “Not as a date! Don’t—don’t take this the wrong way, but uh, I was thinking a bit over the weekend, and um, what do you think about hanging out with me? Alone? As in, without Alma,” he elaborates. “Because, well…I’m here with you right now, yeah?” he waits for Kanda to nod in acknowledgement. “And Alma isn’t.”

“So?”

“And you’re doing fine,” Lavi points out. “This is okay, right? And I was thinking…if…if you want to try it without him. You know. Just, hanging out. Just to see if you can?”

When silence sets in for more than a minute, Lavi forces a smile. “Sorry, it was stupid suggestion. I just. Just forget it, I’ll—“

“I’ll do it,” Kanda says abruptly. “I can…” he grimaces. “Try.”

“Uh,” Lavi wets his lips. “Really?”

A curt nod with no eye contact, but it’s a nod nonetheless.

“I’ll…I’ll text you,” Lavi says quickly, grabbing his folders. “I’ve got another meeting, but I’ll see you then. Bye, Yuu!”

Kanda presses his lips at the wiggle of fingers Lavi always does when the other waves as he disappears out of the door, and spends the next ten minutes knocking his head on the table, cursing his impulsive agreement.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Fuck.

* * *

It’s a Saturday afternoon and Kanda fidgets, clenching and unclenching his fists and he rides the elevator up to the cinema theatre. Fuck, he was totally being over in his head about this. So what if he’s managed to stay in the same room with Lavi without having a full blown panic attack? It really doesn’t mean that he’s ready to _spend time alone_ with the redhead for like, three hours. He definitely doesn’t feel ready, not when he just spent the last hour in his bathroom trying to control his breathing instead of eating his lunch like he was supposed to.

It’s not a date, but the setting of it brings him back to high school— _I’m asking you on a date. To the movies. After school. And maybe…dinner?_ —Lavi, so boyish back then, looking the most nervous and unsure he’d ever seen, twisting his fingers. That eye would always look at him expectantly, full of excited hope, like he was the only one who ever mattered, the only one who—

“Hi.”

Kanda snaps out of it, blinking rapidly.

“You’re early,” Lavi is front of him with his hands stuffed into his jeans, hair pulled back with a bandana.

He looks quite different from the lawyer suits he wears to Kanda’s office and also more dressed up then when he comes over to Kanda’s house. Kanda stares at the multiple leather bands the other has around his wrists in confusion and decides to ignore it.

“I’m never late,” Kanda states.

“That’s true,” Lavi accedes with chuckle and silence settles.

Fuck this is so awkward, Kanda can’t help but think, and he cannot meet Lavi’s gaze no matter how much he tries. It’s just a fucking movie, why the fuck is he freaking out over this? It’s not a fucking date.

“You okay?” the red head asks quietly, facial expression shifting to something more serious.

“F-fine.”

Lavi smiles. “Okay,” he nods, turning his head to look at a screen at the side as Kanda takes a deep breath and mentally counts in his head like clockwork. Breathe in, breathe out. “What do you want to watch? I’m assuming not a chick flick. Horror? Or an action movie?”

Kanda shrugs. “I don’t really care.”

“That is so helpful,” Lavi deadpans, shaking his head. “If you don’t have an opinion, don’t bitch about it later.”

“I don’t bitch.”

“Right,” Lavi drawls and hides his grin at the annoyed expression. “I’ll buy the tickets. You get us some popcorn. Large. I want salty. And nachos, extra cheese. And maybe a hot dog. You choose the drink. Or more food if you want.”

Kanda frowns. “Didn’t you eat lunch?”

“Yeah, but did you?” Lavi looks at him pointedly, and Kanda scowls, looking away.

Maybe his agitation is a little too obvious, because the redhead lowers his voice. “Hey, it’s okay. Just try to eat something. If you don’t eat it, I’ll eat it.”

Kanda wants to say that if he couldn’t manage to eat without Lavi, he doesn’t see how he can eat with Lavi in the vicinity, but he doesn’t. “Fine,” he bites out and goes to order the ridiculous hoard of unhealthy food.

Lavi is waiting for him at the corner when he’s done, taking the popcorn box. “Water,” the redhead looks at the bottle in Kanda’s hand. “Of all drinks—you bought _water_?”

“Are _you_ bitching?” Kanda raises an eyebrow.

Lavi huffs. “No. Anyway, let’s go in.”

Kanda doesn’t know if Lavi purposefully bought tickets for a movie that is just about to start, but they’re saved the awkward attempts to fill in silence as they sit side by side, advertisements already playing on the screen. He still doesn’t know what movie he’s watching—Lavi hasn’t made the move to tell him and he isn’t really arsed to ask—and he watches some weird muppet talk on screen with audience laughter after.

Lavi hugs the popcorn and eats it without much thought, wetting his lips after a couple of mouthfuls. Kanda catches the movement at the corner of his eye but shifts his focus back to the screen. It’s just a movie, it’s just him sitting beside Lavi in a dark theatre, it’s just—he casts his gaze around and catches a couple liplocking three rows away, and he immediately looks to the screen again.

A trailer plays and the music is loud, but it doesn’t register.

It’s just like back then, when Lavi’s fingers would brush against his in the dark, heat traveling to his face with that traitorous thought that he _wanted_ Lavi to hold his hand as stupid and disgustingly cheesy as that was, and when Lavi whispered his name in confusion, he couldn’t help but look at Lavi’s mouth first, and then at the rest of his face in a realization of panic.

He feels like its seven years ago again, like a fumbling idiotic teenager with a stupid massive crush and an anxiety problem.

He feels his throat constrict.

“Yuu?”

Kanda sees that one green eye looking at him again, worried.

“Is everything okay?”

It’s not.

It’s not.

It never has been.

Kanda shakily scrambles up and shoves the food he was made to hold to Lavi, bolting down the aisle.

“Yuu!” Lavi calls and shuts his mouth when several glares shoots his way. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, carefully balancing the food on the seat before highlighting after Kanda.

Kanda is fast but he sees the other’s figure disappear behind the toilet doors and he runs faster, catching the door before it swings close.

“Yuu?”

Kanda’s audible breathing is loud with the echoes of the toilet, the man hunched over at the sinks, fingers gripping the edge tight. Lavi walks over slowly.

“Yuu?” he tries again, swallowing at the stark panic on Kanda’s frustrated expression before the other lurches over a little and gags.

“It’s okay,” Lavi says, gently, trying not wince at the next retching noise.

Kanda shakes his head and gags again, this time, harder.

Lavi watches uselessly as the other coughs and chokes—is…is this what Kanda was doing all those years ago when they watched movies, trying to hold himself so desperately together? It hurts. The thought hurts. _Knowing_ it, it hurts. It hurts so bad because he doesn’t understand _why_.

Why does Kanda have to have this? But it doesn’t change the fact that it _is_ happening, and had been.

He’s over in his head about this, Lavi knows. He asked Kanda out because he wants them to get _better_ —it’s been a month and yet it Kanda always feels so tense when they’re together, like Kanda can never trust him. He shouldn’t have done this. He’s not supposed to go into this hoping that everything will snap into place like he wants it to.

It won’t.

Kanda gags again, and Lavi sucks in a deep breath.

“Yuu, breathe slowly,” he says, stepping forward.

He hadn’t stayed up reading the links that Alma sent him for nothing. He’s seen Alma help Kanda through this. And maybe he can too. He moves close enough that he can reach Kanda, but he stays a respectful distance apart.

Very slowly and gently he touches Kanda on the shoulder, feeling the tremor and flinch just as another retch hits, but he keeps his hand there when Kanda doesn’t shove him away.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, _meaningfully_. “It’s going to be okay,” he continues, thumb rubbing circles in a comfortingly gesture. “You did great, Yuu. You—“

“Don’t f-fucking patronise me,” Kanda snaps, coughing at the end of the sentence. He sucks in a hard fought breath and grips the counter tighter, breaths coming out hard.

“I’m not,” Lavi states. “I mean it.”

Kanda shakes his head, but he doesn’t gag again, only to tightly control his breathing, counting inaudibly under his breath. Lavi waits silently this time until Kanda slumps slightly forward and turns on the tap, splashing his face.

The sound of water gushing suddenly makes Lavi aware that the toilet is deathly silent, which lingers after Kanda shuts the tap. Kanda keeps his eyes closed and stays still at the sink, and Lavi can see the expression on the other’s face, one that he doesn’t want to describe.

“You okay?” he asks quietly.

Kanda shakes his head again.

It’s defeat. It’s disappointment. It’s frustration.

It’s hurt. It’s regret. It’s pain.

It’s everything he doesn’t want to see on Kanda’s face, the strong unbreakable youth he had fallen so hard for, but yet still in his vulnerability, he still…

“You’re strong, Yuu,” Lavi says, stepping closer. “You’re doing great.”

Kanda stares at the sink. “I said don’t patronise me,” he spits out, voice slightly hoarse.

“I mean it,” Lavi continues seriously. “A month ago, you wouldn’t even be in the same room as I was. And today I’m here with you, panic attack aside,” he allows. “You didn’t call Alma. It’s progress, isn’t it?”

Kanda takes a long while, but eventually he does answer. “What if it doesn’t get better than this? It’s fucked up. I’m fucked up.”

“You’re not fucked up.”

“Don’t talk to me about Alma’s bullshit.”

“Fine. Yeah,” Lavi raises his hands and shrugs. “You’re fucked up. But Alma’s right, everyone is fucked up in some way. I know I am,” he smiles wry. “I don’t even get it myself either. Even so, I still want you either way.”

Kanda blinks.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Lavi curses. “Oh shit, I didn’t mean—I mean, I didn’t mean to say that!” he rushes out desperately, waving his hands around in gestures. “I definitely _did not_ say anything—“

But it’s too late, because a spread of dark red colours Kanda’s face, and Lavi’s sentence falls slack at the image in front of him. He’s always thought Kanda is cute in a weird way, but this…he presses his hand to his mouth and blinks rapidly, trying to come to terms with sudden mess of emotions he just created. He sees the shallow rise and fall of the small breaths that Kanda is taking, fast threatening to bubble into another panic attack, and fuck, this time there’s no doubt that it’s his fucking fault.

It’s the worst idea ever because he’s not supposed to touch Kanda in case it triggers something worse, but he grabs the other and pulls him in roughly. The half-Japanese makes some sort of a shocked noise, clamming up. Kanda is trembling so violently that Lavi’s own hands shake as he pulls the other closer, tighter.

Kanda’s fingers scramble for purchase on his back, a shuddering breath slipping through. “W-what are you—“

“Breathe with me, okay?” Lavi squeezes him tighter. “In,” he says slowly. “Out. In. Out.”

Kanda tries to, but chokes on an out breath. Lavi is so warm in contrast to how cold he feels in his gut. He breathes in and he smells the scent of ink and old paper, comforting, yet rocketing his heartbeat to a rate he can’t control, because it’s _Lavi_ and Lavi still _wants_ him—

“Count with me, Yuu,” Lavi murmurs. “One.”

Kanda feels Lavi’s _body_ , solid and firm.

“Come on, Yuu. Say one.”

Fuck, his head is blank.

“Yuu, close your eyes, please,” Lavi coaxes gently. “It’s okay. One.”

“O-one,” he repeats shakily, squeezing his eyes shut.

A hand rests on the back of his head and Kanda presses his forehead on a shoulder. “Two.”

“Two,” Kanda repeats.

_It’s okay,_ he hears Alma echo. _It’s okay, Yuu. It’s okay._

“Breathe in. Three.”

Kanda takes the next breath.

“Four—“

Both of them violently jump apart when the bathroom door swings open. A youth barely glances at them as he shoves a cubicle open, the sound of unzipped jeans and relief following after. Lavi catches Kanda’s surprised glance and both of them turn away, fidgeting awkwardly.

Kanda looks to the sink and finds that he can somewhat breathe properly, albeit rapid and shaky, so he turns on the tap again and busies himself with splashing his face again. Lavi pretends to look at the hand dryer when the random youth comes out to wash his hands, his presence disappearing in the next minute.

When Kanda shuts the tap, it plunges into thick silence again.

Lavi kind of _really_ hates the default awkwardness. “…Are you breathing?”

Kanda sighs. “I can’t do this,” he mutters, face still pink.

“You can,” Lavi says vehemently.

“I can’t.”

“You have. You will.”

“I fucking _can’t_!” Kanda yells, frustrated. “Tell me why the fuck we’re in a fucking toilet if I could just—“ he tapers off angrily, fists clenched tight.

“Yuu,” Lavi begins quietly after watching Kanda glare at his own hands. “When I asked you to hang out I didn’t think you’d agree. That took a lot, right? You wouldn’t have said ‘yes’ a month ago, right? You’re _here_ , talking to me, right? That’s progress.”

It’s slow progress, but it’s progress that Alma takes careful time to remind him about, because this isn’t an easy road.

“I don’t…completely understand but this is…it’s hard. I at least get that. Fucking difficult. But you’re a fighter, Yuu. I know that much about you. So keep trying,” he attempts a smile, even it feels cracked and as his heart clenches tightly. _Try again._ “Try again.”

_Fail again._ “Fail again.”

_Fail better._ “Fail better.”

Kanda continues to look silently at his hands.

“Yuu? About just now...” Lavi ventures cautiously. “It doesn’t matter, okay? Let’s work on being friends. I annoy you. You get pissed off,” he grins. “Sometimes we do stupid shit together and have fun.”

Kanda scoffs, leaning backwards to cross his arms. “You do the stupid shit.”

“Oh please, you were the one who put that plastic roach in Mizuki-sensei’s handbag. Her scream was _epic_ ,” Lavi grins at the memory. “I still hear it sometimes.”

“That’s fucking creepy. And that was your fault.”

“It wasn’t my hands that did it.”

“You stole my fucking hair tie!”

“You could’ve always gotten another one.”

“From who?”

“I dunno. Mizuki-sensei?” Lavi shrugs.

The look that Kanda gives him is distinctively unimpressed.

“So…” Lavi starts, looking around. “What do you want to do now? If you’re okay. You hungry? Or how about a drink?” he halts, eye wide. “As in, soda! Not alcohol! Totally non-alcoholic. Tea, coffee. Whatever. Or we can just go. I don’t mind.”

Kanda catches the lop-sided smile and presses his lips together.

He’ll try. “The movie.”

Lavi blinks, surprised. “Yeah?”

“I paid twenty fucking pounds for the food.”

Lavi nods. “The bottled water was definitely not worth it.”

“Fuck you.”

* * *

“Oh my fucking god I just—how? Why? I don’t understand, I don’t understand why!” Lavi is still ranting when they walk out of Canary Wharf underground station, disgruntled at the movie they’ve just seen. “It’s his arc reactor,” he emphasises, shaking his head. “How could they?”

Kanda glances at him with a scowl. “Won’t that thing kill him if he didn’t take it out?”

“Well, yeah, if the arc reactor stopped working…” Lavi accedes. “But it’s…it’s iconic! It’s who he is!”

“Being dead?”

Lavi huffs. “You’ve seen the first two movies right?”

Kanda shrugs, and Lavi stares at him incredulously. “But. But I saw all those DVDs in your house!”

“Those are Alma’s.”

“Yeah, those are mine,” a voice says, and both of them startle.

Alma is sitting on the curb just at the bottom of the rise of flats Kanda stays at, giving both of them pointed looks. “Great—and a bit unexpected—to see you two together, but let me just put this out there: I’m fucking pissed. Where the fuck were you guys?” he asks in a flat tone.

“You’re not my fucking keeper,” Kanda growls.

Lavi looks unsurely at Kanda and back at Alma again, whose facial expression hardens.

“Lavi,” Alma says, not breaking eye contact with his best friend. “A word.”

Kanda glares harder. “Whatever you have to say, say it here.”

“Even if it’s triggering?”

“I’m not a fucking porcelain doll.”

“I never said you were.”

Lavi glances uneasily at them both. This is the closest he’s ever seen the other two at conflict—true conflict, not the numerous times they’ve affectionately (Alma) insulted or cursed at each other.

“Where were you two? And why did no one care to tell me?” Alma demands. “Especially you, Yuu—why the fuck is your phone turned off? Do you have any fucking idea how worried I was—”

“We...” Lavi interrupts to answer. “I…I asked him to hang out with me. Just a movie. I…we…just wanted to see if it’d be okay.”

“And?”

“It was…” Lavi trailed off, looking at Kanda. “Okay. I think.”

“It was fine,” Kanda bites out.

“Huh,” Alma looks carefully at them both slowly. “…Did you guys make out?”

Kanda steps back at the unexpected question, eyes wide.

“Okay, that was out of line,” Alma winces. He launches at Kanda and kisses the other on the cheek sloppily. “C’mere Yuu, I know you want to make out with _me_ —“

“Fuck—that’s disgusting—“

Alma laughs, avoiding the smack that Kanda tries to hit him with. He ends up slinging his arm around Kanda’s neck and smirks at Lavi’s not so subtle expression of inner conflict.

“I’m not letting you off that easy. I’m cooking dinner and staying the night,” Alma yanks Kanda by the neck and forces him to walk towards the flats.

“Stop freeloading off me, you asshole,” Kanda mutters.

Alma cocks his head back. “You coming, Red?”

Lavi blinks. “Oh. Uh, sure.”

Alma watches the redhead fall in step with them but staying at a safe distance from Kanda, occasionally throwing the arm he has over Kanda’s shoulder with a look Alma can’t describe anything else than a hint of pitiful longing and jealousy. It’s not strong but it’s there, and it makes Alma sigh, because Kanda stares straight ahead, completely oblivious.

But maybe, Alma muses, that might be a good thing.

* * *

Alma cooks soba, because he’s the best fucking best friend ever. Yakisoba though, so maybe he’s not really as indulging as he can be.

“Dinner’s ready. Where’s Yuu?” he asks when he steps out of the kitchen, noticing only Lavi crouching over his DVD set—his, not Kanda’s—and thumbing through it intently.

“In his room,” Lavi answers, starting to slot the discs carefully back into the rack that he took them out from. “Said he wanted to change.”

Alma wanders to Kanda’s room, upon which he intended to enter unannounced like he always does, but finds the door locked. He frowns.

“Yuu?” he taps quietly, not wanting to alert Lavi. “You alright? Yuu?”

The lock clicks open and Alma pushes it open small enough for him to slip through, blinking at the sight of his best friend sitting in with his legs propped up against the door on the floor. He squats down immediately.

“What’s wrong?”

Kanda is hiding most of his face between his knees, so Alma cannot really see the other’s expression. The tips of his ears though, are bright red.

“I…” Kanda starts shakily. “I don’t think I can do this. Fuck. I…I should but I…”

His mind keeps replaying Lavi’s embrace, arms around his waist, _warm_ , firm—he chokes.

Alma sets a hand on the base of Kanda’s neck. “Slowly. Breathe in. Breathe out,” he instructs, shifting to kneel on the floor more comfortably. “Good, it’s all good. Today…I was fucking worried,” he says, tone calm. “And you haven’t told me anything yet, but, I’m proud. I’m proud of you, Yuu. You accomplished a lot, alright? Give yourself some credit.”

Kanda breathes in resigned. “It’s not enough. I still can’t…”

“Hey, you spent quite a couple of hours with him _alone_. Did you freak out?”

The frustrated groan tells him everything.

“But you got through, right?”

“Then why can’t I fucking do this?” Kanda demands, curling his arms around his knees tighter. “I just want to throw up.”

“It’s okay, Yuu,” Alma pats his back, willing the tremble in Kanda’s frame to settle. “I know I said to push yourself but relapse is recovery too. Just as long as you’re willing to try again, yeah? He’ll understand.”

“He’s not going to.”

“He does. He will.”

“Not if this happens again and again,” Kanda mutters. “And again.”

“Well then,” Alma hums. “When you can’t, tell him. Text him if you can’t say it to him. He understands, Yuu,” he continues to pat Kanda’s back. “Trust me. He really does. Or at least, he’s really trying to. And you at least owe him to meet him halfway. If he’s trying, you have to try too.”

_Try again.  
_ _Fail again._

_Fail better._

“It’s getting better, right?”

“I don’t know,” Kanda admits, voice low in a whisper. “I...when I’m with him…I…can’t think.”

Alma smiles, looking up at the ceiling. “Ah, that happens. It’s perfectly okay. It’s going to be okay this time.”

And this time, Kanda nods.


	9. Eight

“Yuu isn’t feeling great right now,” Alma says as he exits Kanda’s room. “Sorry, Red.”

“Oh.” The expression of disappointment flashes just for a second before Lavi manages to cover it up well enough, but not enough for the other. “Well. That’s…that’s fine. I’ll go.”

As the redhead stands up to leave, Alma purses his lips and messes his hair a little with his fingers. He is getting too soft. “Hold up, I’ll pack dinner for you.”

“You don’t have to,” Lavi replies, smiling slightly. “Just, uh…text me when he’s okay.”

“No, seriously, I cooked your portion and Yuu hates eating microwaved food—I’m not gonna toss perfectly good stuff to the trash. Wait here,” Alma eyes him sternly before stalking off to the kitchen.

It doesn’t leave Lavi with much choice so he waits, and doesn’t protest when Alma walks him down to the bus stop. If Alma wants to do something, he does it and nothing can really change his mind—much like Kanda, he supposes.

“Thanks,” he says, just to break the glumly atmosphere, and also because Alma keeps glancing at him with an expression he cannot place. “For looking out for Yuu.”

“Comes with the job description,” Alma nods, a small quirk to his lips. “Yuu did a lot for me. Still does,” he puts in after. “I’m still narked you know.”

Lavi pauses, because the other’s tone is tinged dark.

“You should have told me about your grand plan,” Alma sends him a look. “At the very least, I could’ve been nearby in case shit happened. But, no one can force Yuu to do anything if he doesn’t want to, so, it was his choice too.” He sighs. “…Was it really okay?”

It takes a while for Lavi to reply. “I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “I mean…I was the one who put him in a situation that he…” he trails off. “I tried. I tried to calm him down, and it…sorta worked. But…if he’s freaking out because of _me_ , I…I can’t do much. Anything that I say or do, I…”

“Dude,” Alma interrupts, hand on his shoulder. Their footsteps halt. “Do you have someone to talk to?”

Lavi blinks. “About?”

“Yourself,” the other stares at him keenly. “Your albino friend…beansprout? Do you talk to him about this?”

“Allen? Er…a little,” Lavi furrows his eyebrows in thought. “Why?”

“Lavi,” Alma starts, dead serious. “Was today for Yuu, or for you?” Lavi opens his mouth to retort, but Alma talks over him first. “Can you honestly tell me that not at _any_ point you let yourself think that you were on a date with him? That maybe you could hold his hand, spend your lovey dovey quality time together; all the things I told you to forget about if you wanted to help Yuu?”

Lavi’s mouth clicks shut, jaw tightening.

“Dude, I’m not going to punch you, you can stop looking so freaked,” Alma sighs.

“What else do you want me to say?” Lavi mutters, averting his gaze as he runs his hand through the side of his hair.

“The truth.”

The redhead drops his hand and clenches it. He swallows. “…I feel like I can’t do this.”

Alma nods. “Why?”

“Because it hurts,” he confesses. “It fucking hurts so bad, I just…” he shakes his head. “This is about Yuu and it’s not about me but I…I’m so fucking… _crazy_ about him and I don’t even understand why or…” he swallows, voice cracking. “I can’t stop thinking about Yuu. I can’t stop thinking about how it’d be like if Yuu was…wasn’t…I…I want to touch him but I _can’t_ and it’s because of _me_ , I-I— _fuck_ —“

His words fumble but it doesn’t matter because nothing he can ever say can encapsulate the burning ache in his chest. The thoughts swirl everyday without an outlet that Alma is trying to give him now, he knows, but it’s too much and too little and he doesn’t want get it out, because if it does he’s afraid that it’ll never stop.

“It’s because Yuu likes you, you know,” Alma says after Lavi refuses to say anything more. “That he’s like this.”

“I know.”

“No, you’re missing my point,” Alma clucks his tongue. “If Yuu liked someone else, it’ll be whomever it is that he’ll freak out about. But he chose _you_. He’ll probably want to kill me if he knew I told you this but,” he purses his lips. “It’s the same with Yuu. When he freaks out, he freaks out because he thinks too much, yeah? He thinks about you. He thinks about _dating_ you. He wants to touch you but he _can’t_ because he’s embarrassed about wanting to touch you. So he freaks out more about feeling stupid, ectera, ectera,” he crosses his arms. “Sound familiar?”

Lavi shuffles his gaze down and bites his lip.

“This is the last time I’m gonna play matchmaker for you both,” Alma mutters, beckoning Lavi to walk again. “You should remember why you’re even in this with Yuu is because he likes you. This isn’t just about your one-sided unrequited feelings.”

“Then, why, in the beginning, you said not to come on to him—“

“Have you jumped off a cliff yet?”

“No.”

Alma snorts. “If you came on to Yuu with all your intentions you’d just scare him off. Haven’t you learned anything from your seven years of heartbreak and tragedy?” he cocks his eyebrow. “Anyway, I told Yuu that he has to try as long as you are trying for him. And so: are you going to give up on him?”

Can he?

Could he ever?

Lavi swallows. “No,” he says, breathing in hard. Breathe out. “Never.”

* * *

“Lavi. In my office.” 

He looks up from scrolling through his emails, head cocked. “What’s up, gramps?”

But of course Bookman doesn’t give him a reply and pointedly looks at him from his position at his office glass door. Lavi heaves a sigh and rubs his eye, making his way over. He enters the private room with a little hesitance, because his uncle is giving him the kind of measured look that he doesn’t want to be on the other side on.

“Sit.”

Lavi sits gingerly, frowning at the weird formal air.

Bookman sits in his own cushy chair, leaning forward on the desk with his fingers interlaced. “What is it this time, boy?”

“What is what?” he asks, confused.

“Why haven’t you forwarded me the completed contract for _Johnny’s Mill and Gill_? The transaction was done two days ago.”

Oh shit. “Uh. Uh, I-I’ll do it now—“ he mumbles, half scrambling out of his chair.

“ _Sit_.”

Lavi pauses and stays seated, looking at his lap. Though it seems like just a small innocent mistake, any of the other attorneys could have done the same and Bookman would’ve let them off with just a stern reprimanding, but he’s a _Bookman_ —it was inexcusable.

Bookman stares intently at him. “Is this still about Tiedoll’s son?”

Lavi parts his lips and swallows. “…No.”

The elder doesn’t even blink. He keeps the dry stare that Lavi knows the other is just amused at how _terrible_ the lie is.

“When you were in high school,” Bookman begins after a while of silence. “You talked about the boy a lot.”

“I…” Lavi looks up, blinking rapidly. “You…knew? Wait, you _knew_ that I knew Yuu? You knew and you never told me when you sent me to _Eden’s Art_?” he demands, clenching his fist when the implication hits. “And you _still_ sent me to _Eden’s Art_?”

“Yuu Kanda,” Bookman says calmly. “Unusual name in London, it’s hard to forget,” he continues with a snort. “You stopped talking about him years ago. Was I supposed to ask why?” he crosses his arms with a raised eyebrow.

Lavi stubbornly keeps quiet.

“Lavi.”

“It’s just a…it’s...nothing,” he mutters, pushing himself to stand up. “Don’t worry about it, old man.”

“ _Lavi_ ,” Bookman repeats, and Lavi stops in his tracks, head down.

He stares at his shoes. It takes him a while to find the words. “…Yuu and I…we uh, had a thing back then. For a while,” even as he admits this, he feels himself blushing involuntarily, biting his lower lip. “It didn’t end well.”

“Be more specific.”

“A romantic thing,” he forces himself to say, ears burning hotter. “Now we’re…we’re sorting it out. Trying to sort it out. And failing,” he pauses for a moment before adding in a softer voice. “Maybe failing better.”

He doesn’t dare turn around.

“I will have a talk with Froi.”

“No!” Lavi blurts, swivelling around before he can stop himself. The sudden outburst takes his uncle by surprise, seen by the way the other leans backwards slowly. “You can’t—you can’t—“

“I _can’t_?” his uncle repeats with that unwavering stare.

Lavi bites his lip again. “Gramps…please, I…I’ve never asked you for anything,” he begins quietly, looking away. “Just this once. Let me do this. Please.”

He sees the gears turning in the elder’s head. He doesn’t know what exactly it is—whether it’s an assessment of the situation, or the pieces of the story clicking together, or the judgement of his incompetence or even maybe his romantic preferences—probably all together at once, and Bookman eventually gives him a stern look.

“If this gets out of hand,” he states. “I will talk with Froi, and I will pull you from _Eden’s Art_ , no discussion.”

“Understood, sir.” 

* * *

“ _Kanda_.”

Kanda presses his lips together. “What.”

“Please? Just this once?”

“That’s what you said the last time,” Kanda grumbles, shifting his phone over his ear. “Just go on your stupid date already, no one cares.”

“My brother does,” Lenalee whines. “ _Kanda_. I need you there. Please?”

“Fuck, why are you so irritating?” the half-Japanese mutters viciously, signing his name at the bottom of the sheet of paper he was trying to read. “I don’t want to be your third wheel when you suck faces with the beansprout.”

“But you won’t be! Lavi is coming too,” Lenalee ignores the rude comments. “Allen brought Lavi along the other day for brunch. He said you guys made up. Is that true?”

“…Maybe.”

“Good,” Lenalee smiles. “He’s a nice guy. Pretty handsome. A redhead, too—“

“Better than the beansprout.”

“Exactly—“ Lenalee pauses. “Why are you so _mean_ today?” she demands.

“What do you want, Lenalee?” Kanda sighs, putting his pen down. He’s never going to get through his paperwork as long as his _friend_ is on the phone.

“I want you to come with us to Tate Modern on Saturday. And dinner after. I haven’t seen you in a while, Kanda,” Lenalee lowers her voice. “I miss you.”

“Save the mush for your stupid bean,” Kanda mutters. “Fine. Fine,” he rubs his temples, looking at his white ceiling. “Give me the time and place. I have actual work to do, unlike _someone_.”

“Hey, don’t push it, mister. And don’t say it like it pains you so much,” Lenalee huffs. “I know you love Tate Modern—I bet you’re just dying to check out the new exhibition.”

“Whatever. You’re paying the ticket for me.”

“You’re really pushing it, Mr Yuu Kanda,” she states flatly, but Kanda can recognise the fond tone behind it.

It has been a while since he last saw Lenalee, at that incident at _Abeno_. Not that he’s missed any of the girl’s updates on her life—and the parts of her love life that he doesn’t really want to know—because Lenalee texts him quite regularly. But if it’s a free trip to the new exhibition at Tate Modern; Henri Matisse, a giant of modern art, he’s been thinking of going there by himself at some point too, he supposes it’s not that a bad deal.

It’s just having Lavi there, around him for that many hours that makes him hesitant. Granted he’s getting used to the redhead without acting on the urge to escape as always, but it still makes his chest uncomfortable and his head blank and he just really hates feeling so _stupid_ around Lavi. He might actually prefer trailing behind Lenalee and her boy toy. Then again, he’s survived alone time with Lavi, he can surely do a group date.

Not a _date_. Just a gathering. Outing.

Meeting.

Thing.  
  
Fuck.

“—Kanda?”

“What?” he snaps himself out of the train of thought before it develops into something worse.

“I’ve got to go, my next participant is here,” Lenalee tells him cheerily. “If you didn’t hear me just now, I said I’ll let you pick the place for dinner.”

“How gracious of you,” he mutters sarcastically.

“I know,” Lenalee grins. “Just let me know when you’ve decided. Bye!” 

* * *

Kanda expects to be the first one at London Bridge underground station on Saturday morning just because by default he’s always early. This time however, when he taps out of the tube gantry his eyes immediately spot a crop of red hair standing a couple of paces away, hands busy with his phone. His gut goes chilled instantly on reflex, but he steels himself and breathes in harshly once.

It has been okay, right?

“Yuu!”

Kanda snaps out of it and sees Lavi raising his hand to signal him over with a half crooked smile. The multiple leather bands on the other’s wrist fall down his arm with the movement and Kanda tears his eyes away from it to look at the redhead properly. He walks over because he’s not going to run, even if Lavi’s smile strips his breath away.

“Hey,” Lavi smiles.

He nods in acknowledgement when he reaches because he doesn’t know what to say. It appears that Lavi hasn’t planned that far either—silence descends around them. It trickles into the awkward standstill they’ve suffered a countless times that Lavi just wants to bang his head against the ceramic wall.

“You’re early,” Kanda states just to break the tension before it gives him more reason to have a panic attack.

It’s the tone that the half-Japanese says it that makes Lavi feel just a bit indignant. “I’m always on time.”

Kanda just gives him the most unimpressed look ever, complete with an incredulous blink. “You’re always late. You’ve been late for every single meeting by eleven fucking minutes—“

“It’s not my fault!” Lavi protests. “The first time there was a signal fault, the second time there was a tube strike—“

“You should have known there was a tube strike.”

“I anticipated the bus journey to be shorter,” he huffs defensively. “Besides, that’s all in the past. I was earlier than you when we watched Iron Man 3, right? You’re always early but Alma said you hate waiting because it makes you nervous,” he explains, but he trails off when he realises how stupid it is on hindsight. “So I thought it’d be better if I waited with you…”

Waiting makes Kanda irritable and nervous but waiting together with Lavi _alone_ is probably a worse option.

Kanda grips and ungrips his palms. “…It’s fine.”

It might not actually be, but Lavi nods. His brain scrambles for something to say because it descends into silence again and _then_ he can say he just shot himself in the foot. Multiple times.

“I’ve met with Lenalee a couple of times now,” he begins, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. “After that time in uh, _Abeno_.”

“She told me.”

“Yeah, Allen said that they aren’t allowed to go anywhere together because of her brother, so they’ve been using me as a third wheel,” he chuckles and tucks his hands into his jeans pockets. “It’s pretty weird—it’s not supposed to be awesome but it is. They should just date already, it’s about what they’re doing anyway,” he smiles. “Lenalee’s a really nice girl.”

Kanda sends him a weird look but he frowns after and crosses his arms. “Too good for the beansprout.”

“I’d say Allen deserves someone good too,” Lavi argues. “The little man really had some fucked up shit to deal with in his early teens—but he’s still the best guy anyone could ask for.”

“He looks like a freak.”

Lavi grins. “It’s fucking awesome, right? Especially his scar, sorta looks like a tattoo.” He doesn’t mean to ask this but then he doesn’t mean to do a lot of things. “When did you get your tattoo?”

It’s clear that Kanda doesn’t expect the question and it takes a while for the other to answer. “…After,” he mutters.

“Oh,” Lavi says for the lack of anything to say, because he thinks he knows what Kanda means but again he _thinks_ that he thinks he knows—he doesn’t want to ask further, not at this moment when Kanda looks distinctly uncomfortable and when they’re out in public.

Thankfully both their attentions are caught when Lenalee’s voice carries over the air. “Kanda!”

Kanda fumbles to steady himself when the girl launches to hug him tight around the waist. “Get off me, woman,” he grumbles, but Lavi does notice the subtle head pat he gives to Lenalee when the girl looks up and grins at him.

“’Sup, Al,” Lavi smiles when the youth with the bleached hair arrives a few paces behind, giving him a fist bump.

“Hey.”

“Great, we’re all here,” Lenalee smiles widely, in a designer coat and high heeled boots. “Alright, I was thinking we could grab something from Borough’s Market since we’re here, and then we head over to Tate Modern. Sound good?”

“I’m actually pretty full but I know my bro isn’t,” Lavi grins and grabs Allen into a neck hug as the younger tries to swipe him away with a faint embarrassed blush. “But yeah sure, I’ll get a drink.”

Lenalee smiles. “Cool,” she says, grabbing Kanda’s arm to make them all start moving.

Kanda is steadfastly giving Allen the most annoyed expression ever and Lenalee purposefully stands in between and hisses under her breath for him to behave.

“Ever been to Tate modern, Lavi?” Lenalee asks while on their way and when the conversation between Allen and Lavi lapses.

“Nope,” Lavi confesses, even though he grew up in London and he’s been back from college for a couple of years now. “I’m not really a big fan of art. Comic art is probably the most I can do.”

“No surprise there,” Kanda mutters under his breath and Lavi catches it.

“Hey, we can totally revisit that convo,” Lavi elbows him with a narrowed eye. “I’m zero percent convinced it’s not all utter bullshit, by the way.”

“Is that a bet?” Allen quips in, grin sliding into more of smirk.

“No,” Lavi states immediately. “I understand less of what _you_ say then what Yuu says about it.”

“It’s not that complicated,” the younger rolls his eyes. “Art appreciation is a biological reaction. We can appreciate art because our neurons allow us to feel what the artist is trying to express, like recounting it first person in third person. It’s all still hypothetical, of course—stimulation theory of social cognition—we don’t really know for sure that mirror neurons encapsulate _intention and understanding_ , but still, it’s amazing.”

“It is,” Lenalee agrees. “Did you read the paper by Hick and Hauser? They put forth some pretty valid arguments about that.”

“I agree,” Allen hums, and Lavi is totally lost. “Oh yes, speaking of which there was someone who suggested that mirror neurons encode instead a Palvovian kind of expected sensory response, bugger, what is his name—“

“Palvovian? How does that work?”

“You remember the paper by Fogassi? The one about the apple and the monkey?”

“The place or eat experiment?”

“Yeah,” Allen nods enthusiastically. “Think about it this way—what if the mirror neurons fired differently not because of intention understanding but because in the eat condition, the neurons expect a different sensory response, like taste sensation that you wouldn’t get with the place condition—“

“Do you understand a thing?” Lavi whispers, nudging Kanda.

Kanda glances at the duo deep in conversation and shrugs. “Do I have to?” 

* * *

Tate Modern: Britian’s national gallery of international modern art, housing a collection of British art since the 1500s. Like Lavi has said before, he’s not a big fan of art—he’s hasn’t even been to the National Gallery at Trafalgar since his uncle brought him there when he was a kid. Art is cool and pretty, he gets that, but he doesn’t understand it like how Kanda does, nor does he appreciates it like Allen does.

He trails after Kanda while they’re walking in the Henri Matisse special exhibition, Allen and Lenalee a couple of pieces in front of them. From what he’s read from the display caption, Matisse seems like a big thing in the art world, and judging from the intense gaze Kanda is staring the piece in front of them, it’s probably true. He doesn’t know what Kanda gets out of it but all he sees is a mash of colour paper cut outs in rectangular shapes surrounded by an orange border.

_The Snail 1953,_ the caption reads.

“How is this a snail?” he mutters under his breath, squinting.

“It’s the spiral pattern,” Kanda states in reply, still looking at the artwork. “It’s not just about that. Look at the complementary colours: red and green, orange and blue, yellow and mauve. It’s a chromatic composition floating in space.”

“Okay…” Lavi squints harder, trying to get whatever Kanda is trying to say. He doesn’t. “Still looks like a children’s art project to me, cutting and sticking coloured paper.

Kanda gives him an irritated scowl. “It’s not fucking coloured paper. It’s gouache.”

“Gou—what?”

“Gouache,” Kanda repeats in a tone that shows how vindicated he is from the fact that Lavi doesn’t know what he’s talking about. “It’s paint like watercolour, but opaque.  And the colours—they’re not as simple as you think.”

“It’s just the colour—“

“’Instead of drawing the outline and putting the colour inside it, I draw straight into the colour’,” Kanda turns to look at the artwork again. “ _Amis de l'art_ , October 1951. In some, colour is everything.”

Lavi stares at the Kanda looks, serious and soft. His breath catches a little. “Yuu, _dire autre chose en français (Yuu, say something else in French_ ),” he blinks.

Kanda glances at him confused. “What for?”

“The…the way you say it it’s really…” _beautiful_ , he trails off before shaking his head. “Ah, nevermind, ignore me.”

It shouldn’t be a wonder that Kanda pronounces the words in all the right intonations since the other was in France was three years, but he’s never heard Kanda say anything in another language than English or smattering words in Japanese.

Kanda gives him another frown and moves to the next art piece, with Lavi hovering beside him. He doesn’t know why Lavi is so insistent on sticking to him in this large gallery because he can’t really concentrate on looking at the coloured leaf cutouts in front of him—he’s at that basal level of jitteriness that he forces himself to keep calm. But he came for the artwork and not for Lavi and so he immerses himself in the beautiful composition of colours and structures and finally when he finishes admiring the last artwork he glances around and sees Lavi sitting on a stone bench in the middle of the gallery, with Lenalee and Allen nowhere in sight.

“They went to the lower levels,” Lavi explains, shuffling his feet, obviously bored. “What do you want to do now? I bet you’ve seen everything downstairs already.”

Kanda kind of has, but he’s not going to nod to this moron who doesn’t appreciate fucking awesome art.

“Come,” he states abruptly, striding away.

Lavi scrambles to follow him with questions that he ignores. He leads the other to the permanent exhibits below, one particularly curating abstract art—he sees the sceptical glances Lavi shoots all around. He scoffs.

They pass by an Yves Klein painting that Kanda can’t help but pause briefly for—“I hate to break it to you, Yuu, but that’s just a blue canvas, not the secret to the universe.” “Shut the fuck up.”—and finally Kanda stops in front of a simple unpainted canvas with a slit in the middle.

“Read it,” he orders, pointing to the display caption. “And then look at it.”

Lavi raises his eyebrow but Kanda is back to ignoring him again, arms crossed looking at the art piece with his features slowly relaxing. He doesn’t get it—he won’t get it, but he bends down and reads the caption anyway.

> _Lucio Fontana_
> 
> _Spatial Concept ‘Waiting’ 1960_
> 
> _‘I have constructed, not destroyed.”_

He leans back and looks at the canvas again, with that cut down its middle.

“’Art dies but is saved by gesture.’. Lucio Fontana, 1948,” Kanda recites beside him.

_I have constructed,_ Lavi thinks, imaging himself taking a blade to a canvas. _Not destroyed_. 

* * *

“What’s up, Lavi? You’re a little quiet,” Lenalee pats him on the shoulder when they stand around a table they’ve secured at Southbank later, _KERB_ food trucks all around.

“He’s having an existential crisis,” Kanda puts in, slightly smirking.

“I am not,” Lavi denies. “It’s just—it’s just a thoughtful quote, that’s all,” he turns to Allen when the younger smiles at him. “No, I did not make a bet with you.”

Lenalee hums. “Sit down, guys. Any particular food in mind? I heard everything here is great.”

“You said you’ll let me choose,” Kanda grumbles. “Why the fuck are we here?”

“You never texted me,” Lenalee retorts. “Stop sulking—you can pick what we’ll eat.”

“…Whatever.”

“I heard the kimichi burrito is pretty good,” Allen says, savouring the delicious smell of sizzling meat in the air. “Or the burger, or the double fried chips, and there’s also a stall that does crab in different ways—“

Lenalee chuckles. “Al, you may eat everything but Kanda here is _very_ picky,” she pulls at the half-Japanese’s shirt. “We’ll get the food, you two watch the table.”

“I can help carry the—“

“It’s alright. I’m sure we can manage.”

Lenalee sends the other two a beaming smile before she drags Kanda to the nearest stall to take a look. Allen and Lavi sit at the table in the meantime.

“I saw you guys holding hands,” Lavi says, and Allen drags his eyes away from a juicy pulled pork sandwich three tables away.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“I saw you two holding hands in the gallery,” Lavi repeats, smiling. “Do you want to tell me something?”

Allen is naturally pale which makes it really adorable when he flushes, cheeks turning bright red, a stark contrast to his bleached hair. “I was going to tell you,” he mumbles. “It’s a new development.”

“Oh?” Lavi leans closer, interested. “Spill it, beansprout.”

Allen scowls at the nickname, one that Lenalee’s _friend_ had bestowed upon him. “It’s _Allen_ ,” he hisses, trying to downplay his blush.

“It’s Allen if you tell me how it happened,” Lavi agrees, and Allen purses his lips.

The younger switches his gaze to the table and scratches his cheek. “Actually,” he starts. “She…she asked me.”

Lavi blinks, and then blinks again. “…Wow.”

“…Yeah.”

“How could you let the lady do all the work?” Lavi teases, shaking his head. “I’m disappointed in you, Al.”

“I _know_ ,” Allen huffs, still staring at the table, though his blush brightens. “I…I should’ve asked her first. You were right. I…I don’t know what I was waiting for.”

“Don’t kill yourself over it,” Lavi pats his shoulder. “She’s your first, yeah? You were nervous. It’s normal.”

“But I—she’s…yeah,” Allen sighs, sinking into his folded arms. “I’m just glad we are where we are now. But,” he grimaces. “We need to break it to her brother.”

“That can’t be too hard,” Lavi smiles, ruffling his hair. “Congrats, little man.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, turning his head to look at Lavi. “You and Kanda seem good today.”

“Yeah well,” Lavi shrugs. “We’re trying. He’s such an art geek, I never knew that about him. It’s rather cute.”

Lavi’s tone is wistful as he stares up into the dimming sky.

“…You okay?” Allen asks quietly.

“I…” Lavi begins, and smiles a little after he pauses. “I’ll be okay.” 

* * *

They take the same tube route back because they practically live a station apart, but Lavi alights off at Canada Water too.

“I’ve got to walk the girl home, don’t I?” Lavi says when Kanda shoots him a confused look as they get out of the station. The look melts into one of lethal annoyance and Lavi holds his hands up. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he huffs.

“Then?”

Lavi scratches the back of his neck. “Well, I…I couldn’t ask in the tube, but, um,” he pauses guilty, lowering his voice. “Are you okay? As in, was today okay? With me? You can tell me the truth, Yuu.”

Yes there had been quite a couple of times where he was tempted to escape to a secluded corner and speed dial Alma especially when Lavi stood so close he could smell the others’ cologne, but he hadn’t had to lock himself in the bathroom, and he managed to eat a little during dinner with Lenalee’s enthusiasm for him to try to new things—all things considered, it was pretty fucking great.

“…Yes.”

“Great,” Lavi nods, lips melting into a relieved smile. ”So, uh, I’ll see you when Alma texts me. Or maybe at your office, whichever comes first,” he looks at Kanda for an acknowledgement nod, but then Kanda doesn’t really do things like that. “Well. See ya.”

He gives the half-Japanese a small wave and smile as they stand at the bottom of Kanda’s group of flats, turning on his heel to leave. He doesn’t know why he feels just a bit disappointed as he walks back—he doesn’t even know what he’s expecting—but he pushes the thought firmly out of his mind as he wonders if he should take the bus or walk home.

It’s a nice night, with a few stars and not too cold.

“Lavi.”

He stops still in his tracks when he hears his name, soft but still audible. He carefully turns just to see if it’s his imagination or not and sees Kanda avoiding his gaze. Kanda is still in the same spot as when he left.

“What’s up?” he asks.

Kanda doesn’t answer but he doesn’t walk off either, which makes Lavi curious. Lavi walks back a few paces and Kanda turns slightly away with his hands clenched.

“Yuu?”

“Do you want to…come up?”

There is silence as Lavi tries to figure out if he’s misheard something.

“Forget it,” Kanda mutters, face tinted even in the dim light, turning on his heels.

Lavi scrambles after him. “Is—is it okay if I do? I mean…” he notices Kanda walking faster and his fists clenching tighter and he rushes after him. “I mean, yeah, I could a drink, thanks,” he corrects.

Kanda eyes him shortly as they walk up the stairs. “I only have water.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugs.

He is actually thirsty from the dry air, but that’s not the main reason why he accepts Kanda’s invitation. It obviously took a lot for Kanda to voluntarily ask him to enter his apartment—it has never happened before. Alma is always the one to tell him when to come, and he’s afraid that if this opportunity isn’t taken then they’ll always be stuck at the same place, but with this, they’ll move forward. He doesn’t know why Kanda asks him to though.

Maybe Kanda is getting used to him more. Maybe he doesn’t freak Kanda out so badly that Kanda is _willing_ to spend time with him.

Or maybe Alma asked Kanda to, Lavi can’t be sure.

The apartment is dark and empty when they enter—Lavi is half expecting Alma to be waiting for them. He doesn’t really know what to do as Kanda flicks the lights on and moves around his house, so he goes for the couch and sits himself down.

Kanda comes a few minutes later with a glass of water in hand. He takes it.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, drinking a mouthful, and nearly chokes when Kanda sits down beside him. He ventures cautiously when Kanda doesn’t say anything. “…Is something wrong?”

Kanda closes his eyes and curses himself. He doesn’t know what possessed him to invite the redhead up to his place especially when the jumpy feeling in his gut intensifies, but on the other hand he knows why he does and he hates himself for it.

Maybe because he’s survived today he thinks he can do more, but the trembling in his hands warns against it.

But what did Alma say?

Fuck it, right?

Fuck the anxiety. Fuck it all.

Lavi stares when Kanda abruptly turns to face him, face slightly red but determined. He isn’t prepared for how Kanda grabs him by the front of his shirt and the next thing he knows their mouths are pressed against each other’s. Lavi blinks rapidly, eye wide and staring into Kanda’s which are squeezed shut. He’s too in shock to register anything. Just as suddenly, Kanda releases him and he just stares some more, lips slightly parted. Kanda doesn’t let go of the front of his shirt but the grip does loosen, and the half-Japanese drops it completely when he doesn’t respond in any way.

Kanda’s face is flushed darker and he’s pursing his lips like he doesn’t know what to do, edging slightly backward. Their gazes meet and Lavi sees the churning of gears in Kanda’s mind—fuck, fuck, fuck—a bubbling of a panic attack. When Kanda makes to scramble off the couch Lavi lunges to grab his wrist. He can feel how hard the other is trembling under his hold. Kanda is turned away from him so all he can really see is how bright red the tips of his ears are.

“Yuu, wait,” he whispers. “Please wait.”

He grips Kanda’s wrist tighter and realises that he’s shaking too.

“Yuu,” he murmurs again, gently tugging Kanda towards him.

Kanda resists his pull for a few tries until the other gives up, sinking his weight back into the couch. It’s not a victory because Kanda’s other hand slaps over his mouth in that same moment and he huddles forward, shoulders convulsing. Lavi sucks in a sharp breath when he hears the first strained shudder from Kanda’s mouth.

With every desperate gag Kanda makes Lavi feels his heart tighten so hard that it nearly makes him gag too.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, thumbing the pulse on Kanda’s wrist. “It’s okay, Yuu. It’s okay.”

Kanda doesn’t seem to hear him, the hard sharp breaths he’s struggling for takes precedence. Lavi doesn’t want to see this. He doesn’t want to see how Kanda _breaks_ under this condition that he can’t escape from, with every attack his will cracks, and time and time again Kanda has fought every battle with exhaustion seeping deeper into his bones.

And all he has done over the years is to habour the bitterness of imagining the life that Kanda was leading, leaving him behind broken and lost.

Even now all he can do is to wallow in pathetic disgusting selfishness that he wants more, more of Kanda, always more, more, _more_

everything,

_anything_

He pulls Kanda toward him this time more forcefully and tightens his arms around the other’s shoulders, enveloping him as much as he can. He presses Kanda to his chest, feeling the tremor from Kanda’s frame that vibrates to his spine. Kanda seizes up, and Lavi chokes, lips pressed to Kanda’s temple.

“I’m sorry,” a lodge tightens in his throat as his voice cracks. “I-I…I’m so sorry, Yuu. I’m sorry. Sorry,” he mumbles, over and over. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I—“ he grips his embrace and repeats the words as Kanda fights to breathe in his arms, eventually coming to a tired still, breathing slow but heavy against his chest.

His words fade into an inaudible murmur, until Lavi only hears the loud thrumming of their heartbeats, jagged and jarring and yet, in sync. Kanda has his eyes closed and mouth moving to count numbers—Lavi counts with him until his throat is dry. No one would ever believe him but Kanda smells like soft cotton and white musk, just like seven years ago. Even when Kanda is shaking and clammy in his arms he’s still the Kanda he knows, still the Kanda he can’t let go of, still the Kanda that rips his heart open and pieces it back together again.

Kanda is still so beautiful, then and now.

He touches Kanda’s cheek gently when the other’s heavy breathing subsides into something calmer. Kanda doesn’t open his eyes when he does so, and it’s probably for the better.

“Yuu,” he whispers, and tilts his head down to meet Kanda’s lips.

This is nothing like any of the kisses they’ve ever shared—nothing like the hard animalistic make out during their drunk night, nothing like the hard forceful kiss he tried to kiss Kanda with, nothing like the mouth press Kanda gave him either.

Kanda’s lips are chapped but they’re soft. He moulds their mouths gently together before pressing just slightly more, tongue bumping against the other’s lips. He kisses Kanda like he’s always wanted to—gentle, careful, precious, and resoundingly slow. He tastes Kanda’s lips and remembers how he’s always thought it’d be like, but the fantasy never touched the indescribable reality of it.

Kanda is warmer than he ever dreamed.

He pulls back slightly, still cupping Kanda’s face. There is a brilliant pink that spreads across Kanda’s cheeks, but his eyes are still kept shut.

“Pretend it’s not me,” Lavi murmurs against his mouth. “I mean, pretend it’s me, but not me.”

It sounds like something Lavi would say, Kanda thinks hazily as he parts his mouth slightly to let a warm tongue enter. He’s imagined countless of times how Lavi would feel like against his skin, the smooth contours of his abdomen, the breathy chuckles against his neck, the way Lavi would definitely love to play with his hair, fingers entwining into the long strands.

Even with his eyes closed he can always vision how red Lavi’s hair is.

Lavi whispers his name against his lips, complete with the accent he’s never forgotten, soft and careful. He kisses that mouth back, cautiously at first, and then deeper with their tongues dancing around each other. When he inhales he breathes in the scent of old paper, ink and spice, he feels the soft textures of Lavi’s layered hair under his fingertips, he tastes the warm and wet movements in his tongue and their breathes mingling, all of it so real, better than any dream he’s ever convinced himself of.

It’s not a dream if he doesn’t ever wake from this.

“Yuu! How was your date with— _whoa_ —“

Kanda snaps his eyes open and jolts when he sees emerald—he’s on top on Lavi on the couch and he jerks back. Lavi scrambles to reach for him and both of them fall off with a yelp. When Kanda blinks blearily from the drop he realises that Lavi has wrapped an arm around his head to prevent him from getting a concussion from the floor.

“Ow, fuck,” Lavi winces at the hit his elbow took at the impact. “You okay?” he tilts his head down.

Kanda is breathing heavily, hair astray, and Lavi stares.

“You guys alright?” Alma comes closer in concern, though he’s halfway snickering.

Kanda pushes at Lavi’s chest. “Get off.”

“Right, sorry,” Lavi grins, half-crooked, holding out a hand for him to take.

Kanda almost takes it but when he reaches out his hand doesn’t want to move. Instead, it halts because his hand has gone cold and all he can do is to curl his fingers. He looks at Lavi again and then looks at his hand and then back at Alma.

He touches his mouth.

“Yuu?” Alma tilts his head.

Kanda pushes himself off the floor shakily and turns around, avoiding Lavi and Alma’s worried glances.

Fuck, what was he doing before Alma came in?

He was…Lavi was…

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

His face feels so hot and he curses himself for having a pale complexion, everyone in the fucking room can see how he’s blushing just because Lavi _kissed_ him, and the thing is, he wants more. Lavi kisses him like he’s the sun come down to earth and he wants Lavi to hold him the same, tell him he same, but at the same time he doesn’t want to but it’s _stupid_ and _embarrassing_ and he’s not a fucking teenager and he can never, ever do the same.

He doesn’t even know if he can say that he _likes_ Lavi even though he knows it’s much more than that, always has been, much less—

Fuck, his throat is tightening at the thought, he needs to stop this, he needs to—

Lavi touches his own mouth and then drops his hand when he realises that Alma is in the room. He darts his gaze between Kanda and Alma until the cook looks back at him meaningfully and cocks his head toward the half-Japanese.

“Yuu?” Lavi wets his lips unsurely, stepping forward.

Kanda turns at his call but then the other blushes furiously and steps back, turning away again, hands clenched defensively.

Lavi hasn’t seen Kanda blush this hard before—it leaves him speechless for a couple of moments before he finds his voice again. “I-it’s okay,” he says, taking another step, but Kanda retreats again.

“Yuu—“

This time Kanda escapes before he can touch the other, the sound of Kanda’s door closing shut within seconds. Lavi stares at the empty space before him, lowering his outstretched hand. Alma comes to stand beside him, sighing and ruffling the back of his head.

“I’ll talk to him,” Alma says, frowning.

“I…I should leave.”

Alma looks over, and Lavi has his head down, fringe covering his expression. To be honest Alma doesn’t want to see it either. The redhead moves sluggishly to the door with his hands tucked into his pockets to find his shoes, and Alma sighs irritably again.

“Red,” he says. “Stay.”

“It’s alright,” Lavi murmurs, not looking at him. “Just…just tell me when he’s okay.”

Alma makes an annoyed noise. “I said fucking _stay_ ,” he grinds out sternly. “Stay for Yuu.”

Lavi stays still at the door, and Alma stalks to Kanda’s room.

* * *

Two hours pass before Lavi hears Kanda’s door creak open. His phone vibrates at the same moment and he glances at the new text that he receives. It’s from Alma so he opens it.

> _Say everything you want to say._

Kanda is standing in front of him when he looks up, looking much calmer than he did before. Kanda doesn’t meet his eye though, but that’s a minor detail. The half-Japanese forces himself to sit down, albeit a few spaces away. Lavi isn’t sure if he’s supposed to begin a conversation, but thankfully Kanda holds out something for him before he blurts something stupid.

It’s Kanda’s phone, and he takes it, looking at the screen. There is only one simple word.

> _Sorry._

“No,” he swallows. “No, this is _not_ your fault.”

Kanda’s voice is rough and shaky when he says the next few words. “You should leave.”

Lavi stills, gut turning cold. He knows it’s not a smooth journey and having Kanda react like his touch physically pains him like a blade through his heart, and now _hearing_ it, it hurts like a crush of his soul.

Kanda grabs his phone back and types clumsily, shoving it back after.

> _I’m not good for you. Sorry._

Lavi barely finishes reading the sentences when the phone is plucked out of his grip again. Kanda stands up to leave, but Lavi catches his wrist.

“Yuu,” he sighs. “You make this very difficult,” he grips tighter. “Please sit.”

Kanda doesn’t sit, but he doesn’t leave.

“Do you really want me to leave?” Lavi asks quietly. “Because I don’t,” he admits, voice hushed. “I don’t ever want to.”

Kanda turns slightly, and Lavi takes the chance to stand up and tug him closer. “And,” he continues, using his other free hand to grasp Kanda’s hand, their palms connecting. “And—“ he halts nervously, fumbling with their hand hold.

Kanda is again trembling under his touch, but this time, he’s shaking too.

_Say everything you want to say._

“Yuu, you know that I…I…” he begins, stuttering a little. “I’ve always…I… _love_ you, and I—“ he tries to rush out quickly, but his voice cracks and he breathes in sharply. “Fuck, g-give me a moment,” he mutters, as he palms his eye hastily, letting go of Kanda’s wrists.

Kanda has turned to look at him in half bewilderment, and Lavi wants to laugh because for the first time, he’s the shaking mess. The tears don’t stop however much he tries to compose himself. It’s been seven years since he’s felt this way for Kanda and this is the first time he’s ever said it to the other—it isn’t even romantic in the least, he’s _begging_ for Kanda to stay and listen to him but saying it out loud leads the waterfall of the pure weight of it.

He’s convinced himself that he wasn’t for such a good portion of his life but the feeling has always eaten at him painful and deep. But it doesn’t make it easier when he accepts it either.

He’s rubbing at his eye way more than healthy before his vision clears enough for him to continue, but Kanda interrupts.

Kanda is looking at him properly this time. “Why?”

Why indeed. Sometimes Lavi would like to ask Kanda as well—why does he freak out over _him_? Over someone like him? Ridiculous, annoying, stupid him? Questions he shouldn’t ask because he wants Kanda to like him back so much that it kills him.

“Because you’re Yuu,” he answers before he knows that he is. “Because you’re Yuu and…and without you it’s just…empty. I spent so long wanting to hate you and I never could and I…and knowing you now, you, _you_ are amazing, Yuu,” he ploughs on, mouth working on its own. “You are not worthless. You are not pathetic, even with this anxiety. _Especially_ with this anxiety,” he insists vehemently. “Lenalee told me you were the best thing that happened to her in France. Alma said you saved his life, and you still do,” he swallows. “In high school,” he confesses, voice small. “You saved mine too.”

“…I didn’t do anything.”

Lavi almost laughs, but he chokes a little instead. “Do you know how alone I was before I met you?” he whispers. “You were my first friend.”

Kanda stares, slightly taken aback. Lavi’s always been the happy go lucky personality type that garners crowds of people around him—the redhead is a social butterfly, not a social recluse like _he_ is—and yet, he cannot recall the other talking about any friends he’s ever had, not like he has with Alma, and now he realises why.

Lavi palms his eye roughly again and looks at him seriously. “Don’t ask me to leave, Yuu. We were doing okay, right? We can be okay, I know we can be—“

“It’s not,” Kanda says over him, mouth dry. “I’ll never be okay.”

“You don’t have to be,” Lavi tells him. “But _we_ can be,” he repeats. “I’m not giving up on you. Not ever.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I can.”

They’re still standing in the living room with their hands clasped together, or rather, Lavi is clinging on to his hand refusing to let go. Usually he’d expect his heart to go on overdrive at the kind of words Lavi has spewed but he just feels strangely warm, watching Lavi rub his eye again desperately, feeling Lavi griping to his hand to tight to quell their tremble. Lavi is always patient with him to the extent that he cannot comprehend why—even when Alma tells him it’s because the redhead _loves_ him—he wants to believe it but he’s scared to, even when Lavi says it, he’s still so fucking scared to.

“I. I’m going be by you,” Lavi says evenly. “Whether as a friend, or…or something more, I…I...as long as it’s with you, I can live with that. So don’t ask me to leave again.”

Kanda looks at their joined hands. “You shouldn’t,” he starts. “You shouldn’t have to live with me.”

“It’s worse without you.”

Lavi gives him a weak smile. He’s said all he can say, it’s up to Kanda if he will be pushed away or accepted. They stand in a standstill, with him just waiting and Kanda averts his eyes when he realises he’s being stared at, but even when a faint blush rises to his cheeks he still stays put.

The silence drags on and Kanda digs for something to say but he doesn’t know what to say, or maybe, he can’t bring his mouth to move. He ends up pressing the buttons on his phone again, biting his lip and cursing mentally when his fingers take too long to type out one simple sentence because he’s too nervous.

He holds it up for Lavi to see, staring at his own feet.

> _I don’t want you to leave._

Lavi doesn’t remember how to breathe.


	10. Nine

“I-I can’t do this.”

Kanda hates how he stutters because he can’t help it—Lavi’s fingers are entwined with his and the area where their knuckles brush and joints connect causes his heart to jump into his mouth. He isn’t even sure he’s really registering how warm Lavi’s hand is, he’s just burning up from the blood rushing to his face. He tries to get up from the couch but fails. He’s stuck in some sort of weird sandwich between the two others; Alma has his arm hooked around his neck and on his shoulder to anchor him down firmly, and Lavi is grasping his hand on the other side.

“Five minutes,” Alma tells him sternly, nudging his cheek. “You said five minutes. It’s not even thirty seconds.”

Kanda breathes in deeply and refuses to open his eyes, because he knows he looks _ridiculous_ and he doesn’t want to acknowledge that there are people around aka _Lavi_ , watching him like this. He’s blushing so hard he’s sure there isn’t blood left in his body anymore, it’s just, fuck, he’s going to get a nosebleed and then an aneurysm at this rate.

It’s just fucking _holding hands_ and he feels like he’s going into a massive heart attack.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” Alma murmurs softly into his ear, massaging his neck. “Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Good. That’s it.”

Kanda forces himself to focus on Alma’s voice but the weight of the grasp on his hand reminds him that _Lavi_ is there, _Lavi_ is beside him, _Lavi_ is watching him, _Lavi_ is—

“Red, quit staring at him, you’re freaking him out,” Alma snaps suddenly. “That’s it, Yuu. In. Out.”

“S-sorry! I-I…, sorry!” Lavi stammers, jolting.

The redhead visibly reddens himself and wrenches his eye away from the one he’s been gaping at to the wall at the side.

Alma almost rolls his eyes at the scenario he’s basically conjured upon himself, because he was the one who suggested “physical contact training”.

Honestly he had no idea what to do when he peered around the corner and saw Lavi taking Kanda into his arms again after reading something off Kanda’s phone, and then the duo had stayed still until it was obvious that neither knew what to do either. Before another awkward tension could descend he broke in and that was the cue to part for the night—Alma was sure both of them needed it to think, but then he wasn’t sure if anyone but him was able to sleep that night.

To prevent less sleepless nights for them both he figured that the sooner they faced each other the less awkward it’d be (as compared to dragging it out for even longer), but then Alma hasn’t even faced _this_ level of awkwardness in his life. It’s one thing to know and witness Kanda being flustered around the redhead; it’s another thing when he’s forcing them to (only) hold hands and _both_ of them are blushing till kingdom come.

He really wants this done—he’s not a professional matchmaker, nor does he want to be.

Alma refrains from sending Lavi a pointed look for his lack of…whatever. He continues to rub at Kanda’s neck as the other buries his face into his free hand. It is rather humiliating, Alma supposes, but hey, he’s seen Kanda at his worst, this is just one more to the pile.

The minutes tick by and Kanda’s breathing subsides such that it’s not echoing anymore; Alma rubs Kanda’s back in comfort.

“It’s okay, right?” he smiles. “Five minutes. Done and easy. You’ve got this.”

“Fuck I want to kill myself,” Kanda mutters almost inaudibly, but because both of the other two are sitting close, they hear it.

Alma snorts. “Look at him, Yuu, he’s not doing much better than you are.”

“H-hey,” Lavi protests, but he’s also palming his hand over his mouth, because eye darting to and fro from the one he’s sitting next to.

It’s totally embarrassing because he’s an _adult_ with a respectable _job_ and he _owns_ an apartment and he still feels like a teenager with an overwhelming crush just because Kanda is blushing _because_ of him and he’s privy to it— _I don’t want you to leave,_ he remembers, over and over. And he doesn’t, either. He holds Kanda’s hand tighter, trying to ignore Alma’s judging stare at him.

Kanda might feel better with his best friend but he’s certainly _not_ used to someone intruding on a what-would-be private moment; but this is for Kanda, not for him.

Kanda actually sneaks a peek at him and he catches the movement because he’s watching the beautiful flushed face so intently, and his heart skips when their eyes meet just for that split second. He swallows and chews on his bottom lip, because he doesn’t know what to do.

“Who cares, right?” Alma says, relaxed against Kanda’s shoulder. “I don’t give a fuck. You can do whatever you want, Yuu.”

Kanda eventually does drop his hand and sinks backwards on the couch, obviously tired of feeling so jittery. Lavi hasn’t said much else, the redhead is just gripping his hand like he’s scared Kanda will back out and that’s all they’re doing really—sitting on the couch with a nonsense television programme on play with Alma half-watching the show.

“You think you’re ready to talk now?”

“No,” Kanda says immediately, but, he’s not retching.

Alma goes straight ahead. “Question of the day: what are you guys now?”

It’s obvious that Kanda isn’t going to answer first, so Alma looks over to the redhead. Lavi avoids his gaze and shrugs very loosely.

“Whatever Yuu wants us to be, I guess.”

“Wow, putting all the pressure on Yuu, huh?”

“I didn’t mean—“ Lavi protests, eye wide. “I just, I meant that whatever Yuu is comfortable with, I’ll go with that.”

Alma just watches him calmly. “But you want something more.”

“I-I—…” the redhead swallows again, rubbing his flushed neck. “Well, I…“

Alma sighs heavily. “This is fucking awkward, I get it, but we all knew it was going to be. Let’s just get everything out there, okay? You like Yuu, Yuu likes you—we’re on the same page here, yeah?” he waits for Lavi to nod, because Kanda isn’t going to. “So. What do you two expect from each other? Dates? Kissing? Fucking?”

Kanda turns slightly to glare at him, but it doesn’t do anything. Alma frowns right back at him.

“I’m not interested about what you want to do with Red but if this is going _anywhere_ , you have to _talk it out_ ,” he emphasizes.

He’s not a counsellor but he’s seen first hand the lack of communication between the two, and tada, seven years of goddamn _pining_.  

“Do you really want to go back to the whole avoiding routine? Because to be honest: it really fucking sucked.”

Kanda stubbornly keeps quiet.

Alma pats his arm. “I’m going to go make some jelly in the kitchen—holler if something life changing happens.”

His best friend scowls at him but doesn’t make move to keep him there, so Alma figures it is a good progress. He saunters off to leave the other two alone, but still in a vague earshot so he can step in if it gets too much. Or little.

To Kanda’s credit, he doesn’t push Lavi off. But now they’re sitting (somewhat) _alone_ side by side with their hands connected and it’s almost like they’re elementary school and Lavi wants to smack his forehead into a concussion because he knows he’s supposed to take the lead here—he’s not the one with the anxiety problem, he should be calm, calm, calm—no, he’s _not_ fucking calm, fuck, fuck,

Fuck.

Fuck, he wants to kiss Kanda.

“…Yuu?” he forces himself to venture, hoping that his voice isn’t too hoarse. “Can…can I say something?”

“Like what?”

“Anything?” he clarifies.

“…Whatever.”

“If. If,” he tries, and gives up on trying to word it perfectly after a frustrated sigh. “Would you date me again?”

Kanda jolts and his eyes dart over for a split second before he blinks rapidly.

Lavi peers at him intently. “Would you—“

“I heard it.”

Kanda’s lips are pressed into a tight line, and Lavi watches warily, unsure if he’s overstepped. Again he tightens his hand hold because he doesn’t want Kanda to stand up and avoid this whole thing. It’s painful enough to come to where they are now.

For moments they sit in tense silence as Lavi waits for an answer, which doesn’t really help Kanda at all. He doesn’t think he can _date_ Lavi, for many reasons.

It’s not that he doesn’t _want_ to. Lavi still trips and stops his heart like seven years ago, and it’s not easy with a condition as jittery as he has. But as Alma tells him, the heart rate, the embarrassment, the constant struggle to be near and away to the redhead—that’s exactly like how being romantically attracted to someone, then, then yes, he wants to.

But.

_I don’t know how to_

Lavi lowers Kanda’s phone when it gets thrust to him after hasty typing.

“Well, I…I don’t think there are any…rules to dating,” the redhead says nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.  “We…can figure it out. Together. But if you’re not comfortable with it then, then it’s okay,” he continues softly. “I don’t really care about labels—boyfriend, friend, I don’t—I don’t care. Just, as long as you’re good with me. That’s more important.”

It’s something he’s slowly making with peace over the weeks even though it gnaws at him to always want something more.

And that’s what Kanda hears, but he snatches back his phone and types his next sentence.

_But you want to_

Lavi ducks his head and reddens slightly further when Kanda stares at him waiting for an answer. “Y-yeah.”

Kanda is side eyeing him and it’s uncomfortable—it feels like his heart is too open and too raw but Alma is right, they need to _communicate_ , or else nothing will change; neither of them are mind readers, Kanda says too little and he assumes too much.

Kanda breathes in deeply, cutting the tension. “Yes.”

It takes too long for Lavi to process and in that time Kanda resolutely stares at his feet.

“…Yes to what?”

“Your question,” Kanda bites out impatiently.

It takes him more seconds to realise, and even more for the implication to hit home. His hand scrambles to reach Kanda’s hand, except, he forgets that he’s already holding the other’s palm. Kanda tries to avoid his gaze while he can’t help but stare in shock, mouth slightly agape.

“Can I kiss you?” he blurts, hushed.

Kanda seizes up immediately and Lavi panics.

“Uh, maybe next time I shouldn’t ask that?” he asks unsurely, but Kanda is too busy looking stricken to answer his question. He fumbles for a second before remembering what to do. “Breathe,” he grasps Kanda’s shoulders, rubbing them gently. “Slowly,” he murmurs. “That’s right.”

Kanda shivers under his hold, face brilliantly pink, but the other closes his eyes and tries to breathe before it escalates further. Lavi whispers his name again comfortingly and Kanda pretends that everything is okay—he’s _allowed_ to feel this way, wound too tight and too loose in front of the man he’s slowly starting to trust this part of him with.

Lavi continues to soothingly rub the side of Kanda’s arms as he counts low, giving a counter for Kanda to ease his breathing, and it takes a lot to stop staring at Kanda’s mouth.

He can’t help it.

Kanda is…Kanda is everything he wants and he just can’t help leaning a little more forward to close that small gap between them. It’s a simple press of the lips but Lavi tingles from the contact, though he snaps his eye open a second later and remembers his situation.

“Sorry,” he jolts, retracting back quickly. “If you don’t want it, just shove me off, I—“

“I’m not a fucking push over,” Kanda bites out, eyes steeled despite his flushed state.

It’s quiet in the aftermath, only vague sounds from Alma in the kitchen humming a song with the tinkle of pots as the chef does whatever he’s doing. Lavi wants to touch Kanda’s face so badly but he doesn’t think he should cross any more boundaries with what they’re just starting—it’s a delicate thing between both of them and he wants it to work.

“Yuu,”he says finally, soft smile playing on his lips. “Thank you.”

Kanda shoots his gaze away. “You shouldn’t.”

* * *

It’s…it’s a little awkward, but then they’ve suffered enough awkwardness to make this _less_ awkward then before. Strange turn of events, but it’s true.

Alma declares that he’s wiping his hands off them so they have to schedule dates on their own—it’s a step, Lavi supposes, that Alma is forcing them to make. But it’s not that smooth a process because Lavi agonises about when and where to ask Kanda out and Kanda doesn’t exactly reply his messages with much and it’s always with disparaging intervals. He tries to keep their messaging system as neutral as possible because that’s when Kanda’s the most efficient at replying them—but sometimes he catches himself typing something that’ll probably give the other a heart attack and has to backspace everything.

It’s. It’s weird, actually.

He’s feeling weird in the sense that by right he should be elated and overjoyed and shouting off the rooftop but at the same time it feels sombre like it hasn’t really _hit_ yet, or maybe he’s just scared about _letting_ it hit.

He flicks open his phone and stares at the last message he sent Kanda about two hours ago asking if the other would prefer him to bring food over or not, heart twisting.

“Lavi.”

He snaps his phone shut, standing up abruptly. “Y-yeah?” he coughs warily, looking around the office for whoever called his name.

His uncle is standing right behind him and he almost yelps. Almost.

“Before you say anything I’ve cc-ed you everything, I swear on my remaining eye that I did,” he rushes out.

Bookman raises an unimpressed eyebrow and cocks his head. “Come.”

Lavi scrambles to follow. “I didn’t miss anything, right? I checked this morning, double checked, actually, I—“

“Sit.”

He obediently does in the chair opposite the other’s desk, and tenses when Bookman closes his office door. The last time he was in here it wasn’t exactly the best conversation he’s had.

“How is Kanda?” Bookman starts with, and Lavi tenses further.

His uncle is never one to beat around the bush.

“Uh,” he swallows. “…Good?”

The elder places one hand on his shoulder. “Are you dating the boy?”

It’s a miracle that Lavi doesn’t freak out—much. “But I didn’t even—! I—We—who—“ he falters when his uncle just waits calmly. “…I…yeah. Well, we just…just kind of…” he mumbles. “…Yeah,” he sighs in the end.

“Put your phone on the table. You can have it back after six,” Bookman instructs. “You’ve been staring at it the whole day, stupid boy,” he sighs, looking pinched. “I have no objections with what you do in your free time, but make sure it doesn’t distract your work.”

“Sorry,” Lavi mutters, reluctantly leaving his phone on the desk.

It’s humiliating that it’s being _confiscated_ —Bookman was probably watching him from his window for the past few hours—he nearly wants to bang his head on the desk.

“If it does…” Bookman trails off and Lavi knows it’s a threat. He’ll be pulled from _Eden’s Art_ and Bookman will talk to Tiedoll.

“It won’t,” he insists immediately. “I promise.”

Perhaps it’s too fast an answer, because Bookman just eyes him with that look of his.

“Old man,” he starts cautiously. “I don’t think Mr Tiedoll knows about…Yuu and I, so if you uh, happen to talk to him can you…not mention it?”

“Why?”

He looks down. “No reason in particular.”

Bookman snorts, but he does give Lavi another pat on the shoulder which truthfully just freaks him out more.

“Fine,” the elder agrees. “But you will join me for all my meetings tomorrow.”

Lavi winces. “Actually I’m supposed to meet with—“

“Get Tokusa to cover it,” the other says. “ _All_ meetings.”

“Okay, okay,” the redhead pouts.

“The first meeting is at eight in the morning, in the conference room. Don’t be late.”

“Fuck,” Lavi mutters to himself and winces again when Bookman cuffs the back of his head for the curse word.

“It’s about time you took up more responsibilities here.”

Lavi sighs. “I already have more stuff to do than the rest.”

“Is that a complaint?”

“No! No, not a complaint!” Lavi assures hastily. “Just an observation!”

“Hn,” Bookman remarks. “Enough chitchatting. Get back to work, boy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs, getting up from the chair. “Er, can I have my phone—“

“No,” the other states, nudging him out of the office with a kick.

“But I promise I—“

“No.”

Bookman nearly closes the glass door in his face, but the attorney holds it slightly open on a last thought. “Lavi.”

“What?”

Bookman stares at him cryptically. “A father always knows.”

Lavi blinks. “You’re not my dad.”

“Thank heavens for that,” the other mutters, pushing the door shut.

“Hey—“

* * *

First date, Lavi sighs.

First date.

Kind of.

It’s nothing particularly fancy or romantic—in fact, it’s probably the most unromantic ‘date’ ever—he’s just going over to Kanda’s place like he has for the past few weeks, with the only difference is that Alma won’t be around this time. He doesn’t ask Kanda out to other places because he isn’t sure Kanda would be comfortable about that; home is the most comfortable place he could think of, and maybe when Kanda’s used to him they can do more. And he’s perfectly okay with it. He doesn’t need fancy dinners or getaways. Neither is he really thinking of anything particularly intimate or sexy that he can do with Kanda, it’s just, they need to spend time to get to _know_ each other again, this time, on mutual understanding.

He hopes.

He stands outside Kanda’s front door dumbly, holding a basket of fruits, just like the first time he came over.

He wanted to get flowers but then he didn’t know if Kanda would appreciate them—as far as he could remember Kanda certainly liked gardening and plants but flowers as a romantic gesture was something else. He almost got chocolate but then he realised that Kanda didn’t like sweet things, and then he nearly brought a bottle of wine but then alcohol wasn’t something he wanted to bring for a first date.

Maybe he should’ve brought chips and soda. Or maybe general unhealthy finger food—Kanda said he would eat dinner on his own, but Lavi isn’t sure if that was the full truth. There isn’t time to dwell upon that because Kanda opens the door amidst his thoughts. Kanda stares at fruits basket, confused.

“H-hey,” Lavi coughs. “Um. Hi.”

Kanda nods, and swings the door open to let him in. The nervous tension is seen in Kanda’s posture as he closes the door behind them when Lavi enters. The house is quiet without Alma’s intervention to break their awkward silences; another thing they really need to work upon.

“How was work?” Lavi starts conversationally as he takes off his shoes.

“The same.”

“Do we have another client soon?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

Kanda’s face twists into a scowl. “Noah’s Ark.”

Lavi doesn’t know if he should comment about that. He’s still figuring out how he’s supposed to feel about sleeping with Tyki Mikk. He goes to the living room to plop himself and the basket down, and Kanda comes to press a cold glass of water into his hand and sits next to him, a little rigidly.

“I brought my DVD collection over,” he says after taking a sip. “We can watch something if you want to. Or we could just talk.”

“About?”

“Anything,” he shrugs, digging through the basket for an apple that he tosses to Kanda and takes one to bite it himself. “Well for starters…” he starts, chewing—he ignores the confused look Kanda gives the apple, he’s really just trying to keep a relaxed atmosphere here okay, shh—“I want to know what you did after high school.”

It still hurts when he remembers that day—Kanda not even giving him the slightest look back, even though both of them knew it could have been the last time they ever saw each other.

“I went to college.”

“Yeah I knew that,” Lavi rolls his eye. “But why France? Where in France? I never thought you’d go to another country.”

Kanda scowls, crossing his arms. “Paris,” he answers. “It wasn’t…it wasn’t a random thing. Even before…” _shit happened_ , Lavi reads, “It was an option. The old man suggested it. I got in.”

“You liked it there?”

Kanda shrugs. “Not really.”

“Did you join any clubs?”

“No.”

“…Friends?” Lavi ventures.

“No.”

“But you met Lenalee.”

“Lenalee was…she was persistent,” Kanda says finally with a frown. “She’s still so fucking persistent.”

Lavi chuckles. “She was the best thing that happened to you in France, yeah?”

Kanda doesn’t agree, nor does he disagree. Instead, he takes a bite of the apple Lavi pushed to him. The sweet crisp flavour soothes his churning gut a little.

“While you were in France gallivanting, I went to Oxford,” Lavi begins, leaning back. “And then Cambridge for my Master’s.”

He catches Kanda’s totally judgemental look.

“What?” he asks. “I was bored. Just wanted a change.”

“They’re the exact same fucking thing.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he half laughs. “I dunno. Gramps didn’t want me to get out of UK, so, I was stuck with few options.”

“Could’ve gone to a less shitty schools.”

Lavi rolls his eye. “They offered me scholarships, what can I say?” he grins. “Hey, did you ever do a bar crawl? The first one I did during Fresher’s week was fucking insane, I—“

Before Lavi knows it, he’s slipped into the habit of blabbering things to Kanda who listens and comments on his college adventures with much judgement and disdain. He’s done a lot of whacky stuff back then when he was thrust with freedom and the urge to drown himself out of self-pity longing for Kanda—he leaves out the sex escapades and the failed dating tries, but he does recount the hilarious situations (only on hindsight) that he found himself inevitably in. Even worse when he met Allen at Cambridge—that shit was insane.

“I mean, you’d think he’d be such a good two shoes with that creepy killer smile,” Lavi says, gesturing. “But fuck, you should see him play strip poker. The kid is _lethal_ , he could be the next weapon of mass destruction.”

“Maybe you just suck.”

“Or maybe I’m actually right, you know, for once,” Lavi retorts sarcastically, but he’s smiling. “I bet you can’t win against him.”

“I bet Lenalee can.”

Lavi pauses in mid retort. “You know,” he starts. “Allen might actually let Lenalee win. Huh, what a thought.”

“The bean doesn’t need to _let_ her win,” Kanda scoffs. “She’d kick his weak cheating ass.”

“I’d pay to see that,” Lavi admits. “We should totally do a double date.”

At the mention of _date_ , however, Kanda stiffens slightly, and Lavi lets out a breath when that’s all that happens. They’ve already gone through all the fruits that he’s brought without realising it. He glances at his watch in passing and nearly balks.

“Fuck, it’s past two,” he pushes himself to get up, feeling a bit groggy. He didn’t even feel time pass. “I should get going.”

He stretches his legs over a bit before heading to the front door, but Kanda’s voice stops his tracks.

“You can stay,” Kanda says abruptly, and Lavi nearly trips over his feet. “If you want. The couch.”

“Well…” the redhead scratches his cheek. It is late but he does live pretty close so it’s not a big deal. But accepting things that Kanda offers is a very big deal. “Yeah, that’ll be neat—“

He’s barely halfway into his sentence when Kanda disappears into his room and comes out a minute later with a folded stack of a comforter and clothes in his arms, which get dumped into his hold. It’s almost like Kanda _prepared_ for this—and his mouth is forming the words to ask, but it gets jumbled when Kanda stalks away presumably assuming that his role is over.

“Wait!” he calls out hastily before the other disappears. “Er, can I use your bathroom?”

 Kanda eyes him oddly. “You know where it is.”

“Y-yeah,” Lavi is still griping the bundle Kanda gave to him, and he breathes in deeply once. “I—“ he starts, but at the questioning look he gets in return, he falters. “…Thanks. I…I’ll see you in the morning?”

The other nods and turns on his heel to leave. Lavi watches the retreating back for a couple of seconds before he decides that he has to say it. It’s too sudden like this; when they can talk like in the old days one minute and the next it’s back to the stilled awkward interaction. It doesn’t mean anything that Kanda’s offering to let him stay—it’s not a big deal, he’s getting the couch, not the bed.

 “Yuu!” he calls, tracking the few steps over before he loses his nerve. “I’m sorry if this wasn’t…wasn’t that you expected,” he says lowly, looking to a side. “I mean, it’s stupid for a first date, just talking, I know, but I—“

“It was fine.”

Lavi looks up, blinking. “…Really?”

“It’s better,” Kanda says almost inaudible, with a slight flush to his cheeks.

Their eyes meet, and Lavi swallows. Kanda is looking back at him in a particular way, and he can’t think of anything else but the beautiful face in front of him. Before he realises he’s leaning further forward with his gaze locked on the other’s mouth. He flickers his line of sight back up just before intending to close the distance, but Kanda abruptly jerks back with a darker flush of the face, turning around.

Kanda’s back rises and falls slightly rapid and Lavi cautiously reaches to touch him by the shoulder.

Kanda lets him touch him, but he doesn’t turn around, eyes clenched shut. He struggles to calm his breathing and walks off abruptly, with a frustrated echo to his footsteps. Lavi watches him leave with his hand slowly falling to his side.

Does he follow, or does he not?

The sound of Kanda’s closed door kills the thought. Biting his lip Lavi tosses the bundle he’s still holding to the couch and texts a short note to Alma, who, a minute later, still doesn’t reply. He gives up waiting dumbly and goes to the washroom to change and flicker off the lights, well aware that Kanda is just walls away from he is and he can’t really get comfortable even as he pulls the comforter over his frame.

The clothes that Kanda’s given to him are slightly small but they’re not tight—the pants come up to his calves and the long sleeves end before his wrists. But they’re comfortable and soft and they smell really nice, probably the same kind of fabric softer that the other uses for his clothes. It is almost like holding Kanda close in his arms. He takes another deep sniff and sighs, absently shucking off his eyepatch to put it on the floor.

He can outline the corridor to where Kanda’s room is from where he’s lying down, and he curls on his side. Spending the past few hours with Kanda is getting them somewhere, he thinks—he likes that they’re mostly on the same page now, and he likes that Kanda _likes_ him; sometimes he still thinks he’s going to wake up from this and Kanda is just another empty ghost in his life, but now he’s here in the other’s house spending the night.

It’s a far cry from the past months since he’s found the other again, but yet it still feels like it’s not enough, never enough.

Not when Kanda still shifts discreetly backward when he gets too close, not when Kanda still backs out when he wants to kiss him. It’s not Kanda’s fault but he’s _frustrated_. Stop whining, Alma would say to him, and he should, but he can’t stop the gutter trail of thoughts.

How many times has he imagined how firm Kanda’s muscles would be or how soft his mouth would be, mixing breaths and affection? How many times has he pictured Kanda below him, face twisted intense pleasure? How many times has he fooled himself into hearing Kanda breathe his name at the climax, sharp nails digging into his back?

He hasn’t slept with anyone since Tyki Mikk and the thought of sleeping with anyone other than Kanda just leaves a sour taste in his mouth now, except, he can’t bring himself to lose into a fantasy of Kanda anymore—it’s too real and too fake, he doesn’t want to tip the fragile balance he has with himself; he might just realise the things that he wants and cannot have, not that this moment.

His hand is palming over his crotch and he forces himself to pull away, even if he’s inevitably getting slightly aroused from the smell of Kanda’s clothes warping his senses. He’s _not_ going to jerk off in Kanda’s living room—Kanda might just kill him if he doesn’t kill himself of the humiliation first.

He checks his phone again to see if Alma has replied, but there is nothing.

He groans.

* * *

“Yuu? Yuu hoo? Hello?” Alma calls. “Dude, say something so I know it’s not bad reception.”

Kanda huddles behind his door in a curled up ball with his phone pressed to his ear—he called Alma without really thinking, and now with the other’s voice in his ear, he doesn’t know what to say. He knows he just ran away from something he shouldn’t—hadn’t he swore to himself that he’s stop running and start trying, as long as Lavi was there for him, even if he was going to fail, but he was going to fail _better_?

Sometimes he thinks that _he can do this_ and he did for whole hours listening to Lavi chattering and despite traitorous thoughts that cut in at some times that jumped in his gut, he had stayed and he was glad that he stayed watching Lavi excitedly recount his college adventures. Lavi is still the stupid enthusiastic redhead who dragged him into unearthly things that he’d never admit he enjoyed. Lavi is still the redhead that digs up the unexplainable grudging fond sensation.

It was almost like the beginning of high school again; with Lavi, not alone, _not alone._

But he couldn’t control his reactions when Lavi looked at him after, gaze intense and full of want.

“Yuu? It’s fucking past two in the morning,” Alma stifles a yawn on the other side. “Unlike some people, I have to work on Saturday mornings.”

“I asked him to stay the night,” Kanda says almost randomly, but both of them know it’s not.

“Okay…wait,” Alma blinks. “He’s in bed with you right now?”

“No!” Kanda hisses. “ _Outside_. The couch.”

“Oh.”

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have,” Kanda mutters, knocking his head against his knee. “What the fuck—“

 “No, asking him to stay is perfectly fine!” Alma hastily assures. “It’s a logical thing, right? It’s late, you offered to let him crash. It’s perfectly fine, nothing weird about it.”

“Of course it’s fucking weird!” Kanda retorts, though his voice is almost in mumble. “It’s only the first...d-d…”

“Date,” Alma finishes helpfully. “Relax. I crash over all the time and I’m not your BF. It doesn’t mean anything, Yuu,” he says, humming for a bit before lowering his voice suspiciously. “Or did you want it to mean something?”

The silence he gets in return is almost painful.

“It’s okay, okay?” Alma says, hushed. “Yuu. Listen to me. Red has been with you for _weeks_ now. If he was going to laugh at you, he’d have done it, if he was going to push you away, he’d have done it. Trust him with yourself a little more.”

“…He shouldn’t need to.”

“Get your head out of that fucking depressing trainwreck,” Alma almost snaps angrily, but he tries his hardest to reign in the harsh tone. “What did I say?”

“You say a lot shit.”

“Relapse is recovery,” Alma corrects with a roll of his eyes. “You called me at two fucking am which I will assume everything else was good. What did you guys do?”

“Talk.”

“The whole way?”

Kanda makes some sort of a noise of agreement.

“How long was that? Five hours, there about? You didn’t call me for that whole length. That’s pretty fucking good, right? So, don’t kill yourself over asking Red to stay. Minor freak out, it happens.”

He lets Kanda waddle in silence for a minute more until he yawns.

“It’s late, Yuu. Go to sleep. Try to sleep. You did well today, yeah? I’ll come by tomorrow with some breakfast for you guys.”

“I don’t want the sweet meat bread thing.”

“Fine. I’ll get you the lotus paste one.” Alma grumbles.

“It’s still too damn sweet.”

“I don’t care.”

“Asshole.”

“Jerk.”

* * *

So Lavi isn’t really sure to count their first date as a success, but they do settle into a somewhat more comfortable atmosphere after that. Nothing particularly exciting happens the next morning—Alma pours a cold cup of water on him to wake him up; he only lets it go because Kanda was watching the spectacle amused, he’s such a masochist, and tries the Chinese steamed buns that the chef has brought along.

He bids them goodbye in the afternoon to crash back to his bed; he did sleep but he remembers having very _frustrated_ sleep, and so he gives in to the temptation to work a release when he’s back in his apartment, and then wants to slap himself after. At night he fiddles with his phone at least twenty times before deciding to send Kanda a text.

It’s a slow process but he eventually does manage to get a conversation going—they have a meeting next week Wednesday in _Eden’s Art_ ; Lavi bets that he won’t be late, just wait.

It turns out that the tube hates him because he’s eleven minutes late (again) on Wednesday when he slams Kanda’s office door open, breathing heavily. Kanda looks distinctly vindicated and unimpressed at the same time, combined with a layer of annoyance aimed at their client.

Tyki salutes him when he enters. “Yo.”

He nods warily. “Good morning. Sorry I’m late—tube issues.”

Tyki just shrugs. “I drive, so I wouldn’t know. But it’s a good thing you came in, Kanda was about to set me on fire,” he looks pointedly at the lighter between Kanda’s fingers.

Kanda scowls and throws the lighter back at Tyki who catches it smoothly. “I wouldn’t burn my own office, asshole.”

Lavi just raises his eyebrow and sits himself down, hoping that him feeling awkward is just him because it still is _really_ fucking weird after the last time. The meeting goes on with Kanda viciously trying to make Tyki read the paperwork for a canvas that his brother bought. Lavi spends the time discreetly watching Kanda’s facial expressions and jumping in when it’s his turn to explain the clauses—Tyki nods like he’s not listening and his glittering eyes lean forward in interest as minutes pass until Lavi is officially creeped out.

“—and you know about the no refund policy. If you understand and agree to everything, then please sign here,” he finishes, tapping the bottom line on the paper.

Tyki hums and uncaps a pen, pressing the nib on the paper. Ink bleeds out. “Say, are you two finally fucking?”

The shocked silence is enough of an answer, and Tyki actually puts the pen down to laugh. Loudly.

“We’re not—“

“You fucking—“

“S-seriously?” Tyki wheezes, not even bothering to muffle his chuckles. “God, Lulu would love this. Happy ending, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up, it’s none of your damn business,” Kanda hisses, eyes burning. “Sign the damn fucking paper.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tyki grins, looping his name. “You can’t hide that happy face from me, Kanda. I’ve known you long enough—“

“I’m never happy—“

“—and Lavi,” Tyki leers wider. “A congratulatory tip for you since you took my advice the other time: Kanda really loves being taken from the back, much like you.”

Kanda grabs Tyki’s collar so hard that the other chokes. “What the fuck did you—“ he pauses, eyes abruptly shooting over the redhead. “You—“

Lavi feels the seeping horror in his gut. “Yuu, I can explain—“

Tyki somehow manages to pry Kanda’s grip off, looking not at all contrite. “Oh I’m sorry, I thought Lavi would’ve told you that he let me fuck him,” he says lazily. “You don’t have to take it personally, Kanda, he was crying for you just like you were for him. Now, if you two are up for a threesome—“

“Fuck yourself, Mikk,” Kanda cuts him off, glaring pissed.

“Someone’s jealous,” Tyki whistles, holding up his hands. “I’ll leave you two to it, since I’m obviously not welcomed,” he shrugs, grabbing the completed folder off the table. “I’ll see you two soon. Thanks for the painting, babe. I’ll send Sheryl your regards.”

“Don’t call me that!”

The Noah representative hums again to himself with chuckles in between as he saunters out of the room, and Lavi doesn’t rise to the bait to strangle the other. He’s more concerned about the way that Kanda is gripping his fist and he’s cautiously trying to decipher Kanda’s expression in the tense silence.

 “I can explain—“

“There’s nothing to explain,” Kanda states, but Lavi doesn’t want them to fall into a stupid cliché of misunderstandings, although…

“I swear I—I didn’t—I mean, I—“ he tries, fumbling with his words. “I slept with him that day after _Abeno_ , when I was pissed and I didn’t know what I was doing—I mean, I did, I—I-I didn’t know he knew you, it was only after that I found out and, and—I—“

“I said there’s nothing—“

“No!” Lavi almost yells, desperate. “It’s stupid, I wanted to forget about you and I couldn’t and then Mikk came along and he told me I could get it out of my system and I thought about you the whole fucking way, I—I swear, I fucking swear you’re the only one that I—“

“I _know_ that, you stupid rabbit!” Kanda shouts over him, fists clenched tighter. “Fucking Mikk, it’s…it’s not like I didn’t do it either,” he mutters, almost inaudible.

Lavi snaps his mouth shut. “…Oh,” he manages a second later, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “Well, I’m…still sorry,” he lamely offers, although Kanda looks like he doesn’t know how to react to that. “Um,” he hastily busies himself with collecting the papers spread on Kanda’s desk to his file, and kicks himself before he loses his nerve. “Do you want to come over on Friday?” he blurts out. “To my place. You haven’t been to my place. I mean, not since that…—that time.”

Kanda blinks but then he nods, albeit slightly hesitant.

Lavi likewise blinks but then beams widely, and without thought leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to the other’s mouth. The redhead realises where they are and blushes violently and it seems like Kanda is still taking a bit of time to process the action, but a soft knock on the door makes them jump apart.

Lavi turns ashen pale when he realises the door is open and _Tiedoll_ is standing with his knuckles raised to rap it.

 “Ah—um, g-good morning, sir,” he greets, voice high in agitation.

“Is everything alright?” Tiedoll asks, face not betraying if he’s seen anything.

It must’ve been their earlier shouting, Lavi winces, not daring to see how well Kanda is faring. “Yes, yes, everything is fine,” he attempts a smile. “I—ah, Yuu and I just finished. I—I should get going.”

He basically rushes out of the room clutching his bag, and Tiedoll escorts him to the reception. “Is everything going well, Lavi?”

“Everything is perfectly fine, sir,” Lavi replies, trying to calm himself down.

Tiedoll looks and acts like a nice man but he’s honestly afraid of Tiedoll’s reaction about dating his beloved son. He doesn’t think he can take it if Tideoll disapproves—he’s fought so hard to be where he is now with Kanda, any more and he thinks it’s going to be too much. They converse a little more polite conversation until Lavi reaches the lifts, and that’s when Tiedoll places his hand on Lavi’s shoulder like how his uncle does all the time to freak him out and he bites his lip down hard to prevent himself from squeaking.

“A father isn’t as oblivious as you think he is, son,” Tiedoll says, and Lavi looks up, confused. “Yuu is…he’s happier, nowadays,” the elder smiles at him, eyes twinkling.

“Yuu and I aren’t…” Lavi starts, and then blanches when he’s effectively admitting to it.

But Tiedoll only continues to smile and pats his shoulder once when the lift door opens. “Take care of him.”

“R-right.”

* * *

Lavi flies out of the office by six sharp on Friday, escaping from Bookman’s clutches before his uncle decides to punish him for zoning out too much. He hasn’t spoken to Kanda about Tiedoll ever since that day—they’ve traded texts for date night, but that’s about it. Lavi will get takeaway and Kanda can join him for dinner at his place. He remembers that Kanda likes Chinese food so he stops by _The Lotu_ s, correction; Alma basically shoves him a large plastic bag and shoos him out of the door when he goes over, busy with the dinner time crowd. He’s fussing on whether his place is neat enough or whether to open the Styrofoam boxes or maybe to open a chill drink from the fridge when his doorbell rings. He’s jumpy and nervous and wonders if he should change into something more comfortable than jeans.

Kanda stands outside, out of his office suit and tie combination, holding a large glass bottle in his hand when he opens the door.

“Hey.”

“Here.” That’s Kanda’s greeting for tonight, but he’ll take what he can get.

“Thanks,” he says mostly out of habit and lets Kanda step in, but he does a double take at the bottle behind the other’s back.

It’s tequila.

“Er—was it hard to find this place?” he asks mostly just to fill the silence, and inwardly groans because his flat is literally next to the tube station.

Thankfully Kanda just gives him a weird look. “No.”

The other glances around the apartment curiously as he walks in, judging the décor—in Lavi’s defense, he really likes his décor okay—and does not say a word as he gets beckoned to the living room where food is present. They sit, Lavi rummages through the bags and does not recognise anything until Kanda gets impatient and dishes them out. Dinner is served, somewhat, and Lavi tries to not watch Kanda eat because it makes the other self-conscious.

“So…did your dad say anything to you?” he ventures between a mouthful of darkly coloured stir fried flat noodles.

“Ex foster father,” Kanda corrects automatically. “No, he didn’t.”

“I think he knows,” Lavi continues, quickly elaborating when Kanda stiffens. “About us. I don’t think he knows about…the other thing. You okay with that?”

Kanda pauses for a moment before returning to eat another mouthful. “…Whatever.”

“Well, uh, because my old man knows too.”

At the abrupt gaze shot at him, Lavi defends quickly.

“I didn’t tell him! He just…he notices things. He remembered who you were the first time he met you because I talked about you back then. I never knew he knew, if not…”

Kanda’s frown deepens as Lavi trails off. “That’s creepy,” he decides finally.

“It kind of is,” the redhead agrees, although, as a Bookman, he’s expected to do the same.

Dinner wraps up with not too much fanfare. Kanda eats normally and that’s a success they both count, full and lazy on the couch after. Lavi holds up the bottle of liquor that Kanda brought to the light and squints at the fine wording.

“Drinking mood today?”

Kanda shrugs very vaguely. “Haven’t in a while.”

“Why do you like tequila?” he asks curiously, remembering that the last time he accepted a drink from Kanda in that club, it was tequila too.

“Least shitty drink.”

“What about Jaeger?”

“Tastes like medicine.”

“Gin?”

“No.”

“Whiskey?”

“Fucking burns the throat.”

“Rum?”

Kanda makes a face Lavi wouldn’t labelling anything but intense dislike.

“Beer?”

“It stinks.”

“Wine?” At this point Lavi’s just trying to find something that will get him an expression that isn’t negative.

“As long as it’s not fucking French.”

“What’s wrong with French wine?”

“It’s full of shit.”

Lavi laughs. “You’re so full of shit, Yuu,” he rolls his eye, putting the bottle down before pulling himself to his feet.

He ignores the curious look Kanda sends his way when he stands up and disappears down his corridor. He comes back minutes later with another heavy glass bottle in hand that is half full, two glasses of ice in the other and a litre plastic bottle under his armpit. Kanda arches an eyebrow when he takes the heavy glass bottle offered to him as Lavi sits back down. Lavi is halfway opening the plastic bottle that is fizzy lemonade when he speaks.

“If we’re gonna drink, you might as well help me finish this bottle first,” he cocks his head to vodka he’s brought out. “We can drink yours the next time.”

Kanda scowls, but he doesn’t protest when Lavi pours an equal blend of lemonade with vodka into the glasses. He takes a sip, and then scowls more. “Too fucking sweet.”

“Suck it up,” Lavi huffs, taking a mouthful of his own drink. He’s a vodka kind of guy, so sue him.

Silence falls between them yet again. Lavi busy himself with taking sips trying to think of something to do from here on, but eventually eyes Kanda too long until the other gives him a frown in return.

“W-what?”

“Nothing,” he quips quickly. “Just…I miss your hair.”

Kanda blinks flabbergasted at the random comment, and Lavi hastens to justify himself. “Nothing weird about it! I just, I just remembered how long your hair was and it’s just, weird to see it so short. I mean it’s nothing bad, you’re still so pretty, so uh,” he babbles, forcefully stopping on the last syllable just so he won’t spout more.

And then at Kanda’s uncomfortably dark expression he remembers that the other doesn’t like being called ‘pretty’ in any connotation.

“Pretty—hot. Hot. Beautiful. That’s—that’s what I meant. I. I’m just going to stop talking,” he sighs eventually, drinking long gulps from his glass.

The alcohol flush curls up his neck and he is thankful that the slight fuzz makes him feel less stupid than he should. Kanda flickers his gaze to his own glass and presses his hands tighter around the cold drink to stop them from trembling and downs it forcefully.

“Lavi,” he speaks after, and he sounds much more relaxed with the warm tingle through his body.

“Yeah?” Lavi asks surprised—Kanda doesn’t call him by his name much.

“Your eye,” Kanda says with his head turned towards him. “…What happened?”

The moment the question leaves his lips Kanda instantly feels foolish—it doesn’t sound like him, it sounds stupid, like he’s unsure but he _is_ unsure. Right from when he’s met Lavi he’s been curious about it but never dared to ask—dared, because Lavi talks about everything and anything but _never_ talks his eye, and so he figures it must be something that shouldn’t be dug at. But he’s seen it twice now; first from that night they accidentally slept together, and the second, last week on his couch.

Lavi self-consciously pats at his eyepatch, but his surprised look gives way to a slight smile. “You’ll be disappointed. It’s nothing what you’d think—it’s stupid, actually, nothing major,” he half laughs, embarrassed. “I was four, running away from the old man in our old apartment—can’t really remember why but I think I stole one of his books or something, and then,” he winces. “I ran into the sharp edge of a table. And so,” he gestures to his eye.

“…”

“I’m not lying,” Lavi crosses his arms with a pout when all Kanda does is to stare disbelievingly. “I told you it was stupid. That’s why I…I don’t talk about it.”

The suspicious look doesn’t go away, but Kanda leans nearer and makes to touch his eyepatch. Lavi freezes because Kanda doesn’t enter his personal space voluntarily at all, this is a new development, but he lets the other take it off. The scar is prominent over the sewn eyelid—he knew he had to lose the eye when he was lying stunned in the A&E ward, but over the years it sometimes still felt like it was there.

When Kanda touches the marred skin he closes his other eye and shudders. The hand whips away quickly, but he catches it before it falls completely.

“I don’t mind,” he says, fingers curling around the other’s wrist.

They’re close. There is something very raw about the moment that stills—neither of them are thinking about Lavi’s eye now _; I don’t mind_ speaks different words and different meanings. Kanda’s eyes are navy, deep and dark and shimmering with unsaid things. _Trust me_ , Lavi has never once said, but the redhead’s actions have hit time and time again—the never ending patience, the never ending lack of judgement, the never ending fill to the void he has tried to tape over with broken pieces over the years. Kanda’s ears are warm, almost burning in contrast to how sedate he feels suddenly.

 _Trust him with yourself a little more.  
_ Trust him to catch you when you fall.

He closes his eyes and leans forward to meet Lavi’s mouth.

Both their mouths part in sync and their tongues meet, cautiously prodding at first before Lavi gives way for the entrance that Kanda seeks. Lips against lips and tongue against tongue they kiss slowly, deeply, until they’re left panting for breath towards the end, connected with a trail of saliva.

“…Are you drunk?” Lavi murmurs softly, looking dazed.

The alcohol is thick between their gums, but Kanda has never felt more wide awake than ever.

“With one fucking cup?”

Lavi half smirks but it falls quickly, hand cautiously resting on Kanda’s thigh. “I don’t want you to regret this,” he admits.

“I regret that I don’t remember,” Kanda replies, voice low.

Lavi swallows, going still. He doesn’t remember all of that night but it still leaves him reeling when he tries to. His lifts his hand to Kanda’s cheek now, seeking for permission to touch and when he gets it, he cups the other’s face gently.

“Yuu,” he whispers in awe and wonder, and Kanda doesn’t let him say what is on the tip on his tongue.

Kanda dominates his mouth, hard and fierce with a strong grip on the front of his shirt and he is too breathless to do anything but submit, his hands trembling and stroking the other’s jaw as they kiss. His mind is a blank as it struggles to catch up, senses exploding with wet heat and heavy breaths. He hears whimpers being dragged out from his throat and he chokes when his windpipe tightens from the way his heart twists, twists, _twists_ —gasping for air that Kanda doesn’t want to give him as he drowns deeper.

He’s desperate for it and it shows by the way he kisses back, equally unrelenting. It’s hard to soak in something he’s been starving for years, but he tries. He tries to memorise how Kanda moans softly in his mouth when he slips his palms up against the other’s skin on his waist to press them flush together. He tries to memorise how Kanda falls so easily into their embrace, smelling of soft cotton and alcohol.

When they break to breathe a second time both their faces are flushed, from three different reasons, all equally liable. Vaguely at the back of Lavi’s mind he knows he’s supposed to look out for something but nothing in Kanda’s face hits, so he ends up starting their third mouth lock of the night with wandering hands this time.

Kanda shudders beautifully under his exploratory palms, but he doesn’t get to bask in the feeling because other hands finds his crotch and presses onto it. He gasps, unexpected at the sudden touch that causes him to rapidly harden. He doesn’t pay it too much heed as it moves slow and stimulating, until he isn’t aware that he’s bucking his hips into the touch hindered by his jeans.

“Don’t—mmm—tease,” he manages in between breaths, and feels a curl on Kanda’s lips.

Suddenly the hand is gone and fingers deftly pop his button and the zip slides down easily after—Lavi breaks their kiss to suck in air when a bare hand wraps around his cock to pull it out, thumbing around the head.

“Ah—hah—“ he hisses, breath stilting.

It’s ridiculous and pathetic but he’s imagined this a thousand times before, or maybe it’s fragment of the memory of October 2nd, Kanda’s broad palm wrapped around his leaking member slowly teasing to drive him mad. He breathes shakily into the nook of Kanda’s neck where he scrambles for purchase with his hands messed into Kanda’s hair.

“Yuu—w-wait,” he gasps as the hand grips tighter and strokes at a faster pace, always with a circle around the slit at the end. “If you do t-that… _ngh_ —I-I’m not gonna—“

“You said not to tease.”

Kanda growls when he yanks on Kanda’s hair particularly hard at one upstroke, trembling with the sensitivity build up and pre-come leaking, and within a minute he comes with a half-breath, eye tightly screwed shut.

It takes a moment for him to calm his breathing enough to sit upright again. He doesn’t really care how he must look with his pants barely off and cock out, shirt on and cheeks darkly flushed from the high, because Kanda is staring back at him with lust festering in those navy eyes, crystal clear with no film of hesitation. Kanda lifts his hand up, milky substance trailing his fingers. Lavi’s heart stops the moment Kanda licks a stripe down his palm.

Kanda doesn’t get to finish down his wrist when Lavi grabs him by the neck and demands entrance to his mouth. The orgasm makes him even more aroused than before. He presses Kanda down, legs straddling, and he moves to strip Kanda quickly, shirt off first.

“You’re so beautiful, you know,” he murmurs, kissing the other again and again and Kanda impatiently yanks his shirt off too. “So so beautiful.”

Kanda makes a disagreement noise that is swallowed by them both.

The touches tingle and burn between them. Lavi tongues Kanda’s tattoo, following it down and around his chest. He takes the time to tease the spotless skin leaving teeth mark in its wake, until Kanda is softly groaning above him, palms pushed into his hair. It’s just a fact that he has never once seen anyone more beautiful than Kanda and it’s a fact that stays from the moment he ever saw the other eight years ago in that crowded school hall until now. He sucks at the pale skin hard and wet, down the defined abs and to the joint of the other’s thigh, tugging the jeans and boxers down as he goes.

Kanda hisses when his pants get pulled off, privates hitting the cool air. Lavi purposely pays attention to everywhere but the place where Kanda’s aching for it, fingers clawing into Kanda’s thighs as he presses nearer, and finally, he stretches his jaw wide and goes down on the neglected shaft.

Kanda keens above him, back arching off the ground. “…F-fuck—“ he gasps breathlessly. “Lavi— _ngh_!“

By now Kanda’s fingers are digging into his scalp and every time he rolls his tongue Kanda squeezes his grip on his hair tighter which just makes him moan more. The sensation is addicting. Pull and push, pull and push. He makes a swallowing motion and Kanda lets out a desperate whimper that just goes straight to his own arousal. Like Kanda he doesn’t drag it out to tease, working his mouth the way he knows how and soon Kanda is yanking on his hair again with that stuttered breathless cursing. After a deliberate hum, Kanda comes, hips bucking.

Lavi takes his time to swallow the bitter substance, nose dipping back down when he’s done. He kisses the trembling abdomen lightly, brushing his lips over and around the pectorals of the other, slowly making his way up. He gets to Kanda’s collarbone and sucks more harshly, leaving bright red spots trailing up to the other’s neck, now biting when he feels like it. Kanda breathes heavily and squirms when more sensitive areas of his skin are attacked, hands clutching the back of Lavi’s back for purchase. Lavi murmurs inaudible praise over and over as he explores and worships the beautiful body at his own pace, hands wandering wherever they take him, over Kanda’s thighs or ribs or jaw.

“Lavi,” Kanda whispers against his mouth, and he meets it, body shuddering with the pure pleasure of having Kanda say his name so intimately.

Lavi hears it, over and over.

Lavi, Lavi, Lavi.

 _Lavi_.

* * *

Fuck, it _hurt_.

Kanda groans inaudibly as his consciousness filters in, nose catching the stench of alcohol, sweat and sex. His body feels so sore, especially in that particular area—the ache doesn’t ease as he numbly tries to shift himself—he vaguely realises that he’s mostly on a hard floor, except for his neck where he’s lying on something that’s particularly sticky and warm. He tries to moves his arms but they feel like dead weight, so he forces himself to crack an eye open. A rising and falling bare chest greets his sight, and he slowly trails it up to see a mess of red hair.

A redhead again, huh.

Kanda feels his muscles protest when he shifts, and the groan he gives out causes the other to stir.

“…Yuu?” the redhead murmurs sleepily, lazily turning his head.

One eye.

Lavi.

Kanda sits up abruptly, immediately wincing at the strain. His head spins at the sudden action, and he folds his knees up to press his head down. It all comes back slowly—the drinking, the kissing, the touching, the fucking—with shameless breathless pleas throughout the night. Blood rushes to his face at the memory unwiped by the little alcohol that bolstered his courage, had he really…had he really—

Lavi is suddenly kneeling next to him, eye wide and worried.

His breathing immediately goes erratic.

And then he lurches. He covers his mouth and grips his stomach, hands trembling, eyes wide. It comes back—no matter how hard he tries to shove it down it keeps coming back, _they_ keep coming back—the twist and pull in his gut, the choking in his throat, the gagging that he tries so hard to suppress but they keep fucking come back over and over. He’s sick of this, so fucking sick of being slave to these reactions for eight years and counting.

“Yuu?” Lavi voice is muted murmur as Kanda forces himself to take a deep breath. “Yuu, it’s okay, shh, it’s okay,” Lavi repeats gently, a palm resting on his back.

It’s okay, right? It should be fucking okay.

Fuck it, Kanda thinks viciously. _Fuck it._

It’s okay to let Lavi— _real_ Lavi fuck him—it’s all fucking okay, because he wanted it, he’s always wanted it; wanted to have Lavi close and in him and within him. It’s okay to have Lavi take him apart and put him back together again. It’s okay, because it’s what he _wants_ , fuck it.

Lavi grips him tight, holding him close as he strokes his hair.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Lavi repeats it like a mantra, rocking him ever so slightly.

The hand rubs circles on his back until the tightening in his gut loosens slightly, enough for him to give an exhale of air without the reflex to attempt to throw up. It’s okay to be like this in Lavi’s arms, holding him up and when he’s drowning. It’s leverage that he can grapple and push and hold with his weight, and fuck, it will damn be fucking okay.

Seconds bleed into minutes and eventually they’re sitting silent except for Kanda’s slow measured breaths against Lavi’s neck.

Lavi strokes the back of his neck. “…You okay?”

No, Kanda wants to yell. No, he’ll never be fucking okay. Not an okay where he wants to be.

But against Lavi’s sticky skin he exhales roughly and buries his head in deeper. His heart is hammering so hard against his chest that it feels like it’s going to explode. Lavi smells like sweat and sex and it’s not the most enticing scent to soak in first thing in the morning.

But this is _Lavi_ and Lavi is with him and he has spent the worst part of seven years wishing that this was reality instead of the strangers he wakes up next to in the morning. This is Lavi, the real Lavi who still loves him and wants him and accepts him for the fucked up person that he is.

And so this is why he breathes in again, and murmurs, “Yes.”

Lavi wraps his arm around his neck so tight that he squirms to make him let go.

But Lavi doesn’t let go.

He won’t never let go, because he hears it in the silence between them.

It’s a thank you.

It’s a I love you.

Stay.

Don’t leave.

Thank you.

I love you.

(More than you’ll ever know.) 

* * *

**-** _Some people, though, are sad against all reason,_  
_all sensibility, all love. I know better now._  
_I know what to say to the things you admit to me,  
__in the dark, all bones and restless hands._

 _“It’s okay.” “You can stay in bed.”  
__“Please come back to me again.”_  

—How to love your depressed lover, donna-marie-riley

* * *

  **_Fin._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the official end chapter of the series; there're two short epilogues (and another drabble somewhere) that's in line with this verse which I might/will add on when I remember to lol. 
> 
> For those of you who have read the original (though I didn't do anything more but spell check here really) and have come with me on this journey again, thank you. For those of you who are reading this for the first time, thank you too. Just to share a little, I started writing this story about three years ago and it contains lots of difficult feelings and memories I kept inside for close to four years. It's been two years since it's been finished, but I come back to this time and time again because sometimes I still need to remind myself that I have survived this, and I still will.
> 
> For all of you out there: You will too.


	11. Mini Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: _things you said through your teeth_

 

“Yuu! I know you’re in there!” Lavi shouts, jabbing the doorbell. “Yuu!”

There’s no response after more minutes of pressing the little button, so he turns to knocking onto the door with his knuckles. His jaw is tight and his voice is laced with impatience and anger as he calls Kanda’s name again and again. He’s sure he’s making enough noise to disturb the neighbours, but he doesn’t care because that’s the reason why Kanda _will_ open up the door eventually.  He raps his fists against the door continuously for the next many minutes until he can’t really feel his hand anymore—he’s halfway contemplating to kick the door, but Kanda might kill him for that—when he hears the slow familiar click of the lock and the door is wrenched open, revealing the one he’s been looking for.

Lavi stills, breathing heavy from the exertion, or maybe he’s just finally resigned to accept that Kanda is standing safe and sound in his apartment.

That Kanda had _lied_ to him.

It’s the first time that Lavi is aware—found out—that Kanda has done so, but, now thinking back, has it really only been this one time?

It’s nothing major. It’s just supposed to be _date_ night. He was looking forward to it, as he always does, but then Kanda had texted him a short message in the afternoon about cancelling it because the other had work to complete in the office. There’s nothing unusual in that. He wouldn’t have thought much about it, but he had finished up a meeting early and decided that at the very least Kanda had to eat dinner, and so he went over with a couple of takeaway boxes in the evening as a surprise, only to enter an empty office room with no Kanda in sight. The receptionist told him Kanda had already left, and the next phone calls to Kanda’s cell went straight to the voicemail. There were a million horrifying scenarios that went through Lavi’s mind, but when finally he managed to get Alma on the line with him, the cook cut off whatever frantic ramble he was on immediately.

“Yuu’s at home,” Alma had said bluntly. “He’s just…—you know what, just…just talk to him, okay, Red?”

Alma didn’t want to say anything more, which was of no help. It’s not like Lavi doesn’t want to talk to Kanda, Lavi _most definitely_ wants to, except...

“Yuu—“ he begins, but Kanda turns away, fists tight and expression unreadable. “Yuu, will you just _tell_ me what’s going on?” he grinds his teeth, frustrated, shoving his way in after Kanda.

Kanda continues to walk away like the other hasn’t even heard him, and Lavi’s stomach twists watching the back retreat sullenly towards the bedroom. Now, _this_ isn’t the first time. Sometimes he doesn’t know if this is because of Kanda himself or because of the anxiety that Kanda refuses to open up about certain things.

Six months into their relationship and Lavi feels like they’ve been good, they’ve been getting better, so much better—now sometimes Lavi spends the night at Kanda’s place, sometimes the other way round. Sometimes they go out for movie dates and Kanda sits through the movie without leaving. Sometimes Lavi even forgets that Kanda has anxiety when Kanda is forcefully grinding on him on the bed between heated kisses and breaths.

But then there’ll be days where Lavi wakes up in the middle of the night to an empty bed and hears Kanda dry retching in the bathroom with the door locked. Or there’ll be times where Kanda avoids him in the morning and Lavi lingers as little as he can to make the other feel less uncomfortable. Or sometimes Kanda visibly clams up when he tries to ask _what’s wrong, there’s something wrong, isn’t there, Yuu_ and Kanda just shakes his head and refuses to speak, but Lavi can feel that he’s saying _it’s me, just me, always me._

Lavi yanks the Kanda’s arm to halt him still, fingers grasping tight. “Yuu, _please_ , talk to me,” he says, grip holding harder than he means to. “Why did you lie to cancel on me?” He feels Kanda stiffen, so he prods further. “You know you can just tell me if it’s too much, right? So, why, _why_ —“

At this Kanda tries to yank his arm back, but Lavi has anticipated it and refuses to let up.

“Yuu,” he breathes in deeply, trying to keep calm. “Yuu, I’m trying, I’m really trying but you have to at least meet me halfway. I can’t understand anything if you don’t say anything! At least _try_ to—“

Kanda trembles under his grip, and whips his head around to glare darkly.

“ _I am_ —“ Kanda hisses, tone uneven. “ _I am—trying—“_ and he breaks off, clearly upset, and tries to yank his arm back again, but fails because Lavi is clutching at him desperately, seeking his gaze sincerely. “I am, _fuck_ ,” he manages eventually. “It’s not that—that simple, okay, fuck—I can’t just—just—“

Lavi swallows at the jumbled mess of words that Kanda tries to form, thumbing the other’s elbow unconsciously. “You _can_ always tell me—“

“I _can’t_!” Kanda grinds out, dark and impatient. “How the fuck am I supposed to say that to you when you—” he takes a sharp breath, closing his eyes momentarily. “…It’s just _my_ fucking problem.”

It hits Lavi, suddenly, of what Kanda means. Though they’ve reached a stage where Kanda can and should be honest about his panic attacks, it is that stage that precisely scares Kanda to be honest. If Kanda admits every time that it _does_ get overwhelming—how many times will it actually be? Once a week? Twice a week? Or every single time? How many times can they postpone before Lavi gets sick of it—how many times can they take a break before Kanda will ever be ready—how many times will Kanda have to face the reality that he’s admitting that he _can’t_ do this, again and again, and again—

Kanda isn’t _not_ trying—he’s trying in a different way.

Lavi can’t say that he knows what to do about this, but he’s sure that Kanda doesn’t know either. But it’s part of them, isn’t it, the working out and re-working out around this issue that they have to face. He wraps his arms slowly around Kanda, ignoring the flinch that comes from the other.

“This _isn’t_ helping,” Kanda grumbles near his neck, and Lavi can actually feel Kanda’s breaths getting shorter and being more tense.

Lavi smiles. “Just for a bit, Yuu. Count with me.”

Kanda does, and when it’s silent and calmer after a twenty slow count, Lavi speaks. “How does next week sound? Let’s go to Alma’s place. With Lenalee and—“

“Not the beansprout,” Kanda interjects.

“—Allen,” Lavi rolls his eye. “We need four people to play mah-jong and Alma will be busy with the dinner crowd—“

“You want to _gamble_ with the _beansprout_?”

Lavi makes a groan. “We don’t have to play with money, we can just—,” he huffs. “The point is, next week. I won’t call or find you until then. Let’s do next week, okay?”

So maybe if everything is overwhelming then he can make sure that there are days where it isn’t. He sees that it slowly dawns upon Kanda on what he’s trying to do, and he knows that the half-hearted agreement in response is not really that half-hearted from the embarrassed flush on the other’s cheeks.

“…Fine.”


	12. Mini Epilogue 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: _“Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”_

It happens on some days.

But some days are enough days that Kanda has grown so tired of it, over the years.

When he finds himself slouching over the sink with the bathroom door locked behind him at 6 a.m. in the morning whilst Lavi snores in their bed, he finds it hard to believe that he’s  _getting better_ , or whatever shit he’d like to believe. He doesn’t understand why he wakes up feeling like he needs to throw up his empty stomach especially when there’s no reason for it. This isn’t just about Lavi, he knows that much, since it happens even when Lavi isn’t around. He’d just open his eyes in the morning and he’d immediately feel that churn in his gut and know it’s going to be a terrible day.

He breathes hard, trying to get that sickly feeling under control. He counts to twenty with Alma’s voice in his head, he rinses his face under the water, but nothing really helps—the nausea sits there like an infestation under his skin that he can never claw out.

One, two, three, and there it is again, the disgusting lurch at the back of his throat, and he wrenches his eyes shut when he gags, fists clenched hard. It takes him ten minutes more to lean his entire weight on his arms at the side of the sink, already feeling a headache on coming from how  _tired_ he is of all this.

He has his eyes closed and mind drifting, which is why he doesn’t hear the first knock upon the bathroom door, which proceeds into a more frantic rhythm after.

“—Yuu? Are you in there?”

Kanda nearly snorts—who else would it be? Lavi has woken up and found him in here too many times by this point to warrant asking that.

“Are you dying? If you’re not, say something.”

Kanda rolls his eyes, dragging himself to stand upright, but he stays silent.

“Come on, Yuu. Open up? Please?”

He hates this part the most, because he knows exactly how Lavi will look at him when he does, like the redhead is _sorry_  he has this, and—and he’s sorry too, he’s fucking sorry that he’s like  _this_  and nothing has or will change it.

“Yuu?” Lavi whispers, soft amidst the silence. “I can come back if you need to be alone. Just let me know you’re okay.”

Kanda breathes in, and forces himself to flick the lock off. The door immediately creaks open after the sound, albeit slowly. A mob of messy red hair peaks through the gap with one green eye.

“Hey,” Lavi greets, lips creased into a half-worried smile.

Kanda doesn’t have the strength to greet him back, neither does he have the strength to protest when the redhead wraps his arms around his shoulders, fingers gently cascading through the strands of hair at the back of his neck.

“…I can’t do this anymore,” Kanda mutters, finally giving in, sinking his weight onto the other.

“You have been. You will,” Lavi murmurs, cradling him tight. “How else will I ever hold you in my arms?”

Kanda jabs his gut, and Lavi winces his chuckle. He cups Kanda’s cheek, leaning slightly back so that he can look at the other.

“I’m with you, okay?” he says against Kanda’s lips, staring into those dark blue eyes. “Always.”


End file.
